


The Second Heir

by park3rborn



Series: The History of Reaveth and Aragorn [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Gen, Lothlórien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-07
Updated: 2010-12-07
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13311039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/park3rborn/pseuds/park3rborn
Summary: A very old work from when I was convinced I would write an entire book series based off of this.Reaveth is a young girl who goes on a wild, 25k+ word adventure in search of her destiny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The formatting is an absolute nightmare but it is legible. It's the price you pay for an almost 10 year old fic.

Chapter 1

The hazy, late-summer sun had barely risen when she awoke. The girl yawned, sat up from her straw-stuffed cot, rubbing her amber-brown eyes groggily. Running a hand quickly through her dark brown shoulder-length hair, she stood up, walked over to the bowl of cold water, and splashed some onto her face and neck. Refreshed, the ten-year-old went over to her bed, and donned her brown weather-stained cloak, then hefted her leather pack. She left her room, and was met by a black and blond haired man, who was four inches taller than she.

“Lord Corfiel,” she acknowledged, bowing with a convincing half-hearted grin.

“Reaveth Telcontar,” Lord Corfiel replied, apparently not suspecting anything. “How many times do I need to tell you; call me Beck.”

“Right; sorry Lord—I mean—Beck.”

“Better.”

She shifted the weight on her shoulders. “I’m leaving today, Beck.” she stated.  
He didn’t look surprised that she was so blunt. Reaveth Telcontar was never good at small talk. “Do you need an escort?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need an escort. I’ll be fine by myself. I’ve lingered here for a harvest, like you asked and I must go to find Aragorn and my mother.”

“How about a map?”

“I’ve got one.” She waved the parchment in front of his face.

“Is it up to date?”

            “If it’s not, I’ll figure it out.”

            “What about weaponry?”

            “Beck. Honestly. Relax. I’ve been doing this for quite a while now; I don’t need you to act like my… well, guardian.”

He didn’t look persuaded. “At least allow me to give you a horse.”

“No,” she replied firmly, raising a hand in disapproval. “I’m nearly an adult--”  
            “You’re nearly eleven.”

“I’m nearly an adult,” she repeated. “I can take care of myself.”

Lord Corfiel’s blue eyes shone with worry. “What about--?”  
Reaveth shushed him, and grabbed his hand suddenly, and reached to her belt.  
Beck glanced at the girl warily. What could she be looking for in her belt? This had better not be another dead rat. He mentally shuddered. Reaveth had an evil sense of humor sometimes. Occasionally he’d find long dead dormice hanging from his windows.

Guessing his thoughts, she smugly looked up at Beck. She plopped into his hand a large rat, fashioned out of silver.

_At least it’s not a real rat._

“I can’t,” Beck tried to argue.

“You will,” Reaveth commanded. She closed his hand, shoving it back to his own body. “This is to shut you up. I’m not a baby; I can most definitely take care of myself. Think of it as payment for a… favor. There may be more where that came from.” She bowed again, and disappeared, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.

“Children these days… always going somewhere, or doing something; never taking a breath to look around them...” Beck murmured quietly.

 

“Reaveth!” somebody yelled.

She groaned. _Not this guy_ again _._ Peter Tomsson, a thin, red haired boy, a year older than her, came awkwardly running after her.

            “Hi,” she managed.

            “ReavethwherewereyougoingImeanyoucannotbeleavingareyouyoudidnoteventsaygoodbye!” he said breathlessly.

_Typical._

Typical was right. Peter was most notorious in the village for being able to repeat an hour’s long lecture in about five minutes. This skill would be more useful if anyone actually understood a single word he blurted out. It was also rumored that he had a fancy for Reaveth; but she denied it every time.

“Whoa there, slow it down a bit. You lost me when you said my name the first time.”

Tomsson’s face flushed, and he took a deep breath.

            “Okay, now take it from the top. Slowly.”

            “Reaveth, where are you going?”

She was tempted to answer, but then he’d go back into gibberish again, and she’d never leave the border.

            “I mean, you can’t be leaving, are you? You didn’t every say goodbye!”

She grunted.

            “You’ve been here for a while, and you didn’t chat with any of your friends or anyone!”

            “So Beck doesn’t count as ‘anyone’?”

            “Well, besides him. Lords and ladies don’t count.”

            “Make sure you tell him that when you go back then.” She attempted to shuffle away, but Peter stepped in front of her.

            “Before you go, I want you to know that… that I…” His eyes misted a bit.

Reaveth clapped her hands, and glanced up at the sky. “Well, would you look at that,” she said, rather loudly. “Time flies! I’ve got to be going now, the day’s not getting any longer.” She turned her back to him, and gently laid her hand on her dagger, as a warning not to hinder her, and walked calmly until she was out of his sight.

            “If Orixar has a fit, it’s all Peter’s fault.” She jogged the next few miles, passing quite a few towns. When she got to an unpopulated area, she shrilly whistled twice, and stood still. Almost instantaneously, there was a clatter of hooves on the worn stone path, and a fifteen hand high stallion that she had “borrowed” from some thieves a few years back, stood in front of Reaveth, all tacked up. He had a speckled grey coat, and a white mane and tail, and probably would have looked like a knight’s steed if he hadn’t donned countless burrs in his tangled hair.

“Good boy, Orixar,” she crooned, and clambered up.  “I know I’m late; Tomsson decided to lose his mind at a bad time. I’ll make it up to you. I promise I’ll… I’ll work out those knots next time we stop for camp.”

He craned his neck to look at Reaveth.

            “What?” Reaveth asked. “I said when we stop for camp. That means not now.” She clucked her tongue, and dug her heels into his ribs. “Let’s go.”

Orixar gave an expectant snort, stubbornly standing his ground.

“Come on, let’s go! I don’t have time for this, Orixar.”

The horse snorted again, as if to say, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Reaveth sighed loudly. “You’re such a spoiled brat!” she cried, exasperated.

He tried to bite her right boot, but got a swift knock in the nose with the toe of said boot.

“Don’t eat my foot; horses are vegetarians. Right?”

Another attempt to eat her shoe.

“Quit that!” she scolded. “You want food? Is that it?”

He bobbed his head.

“Fine then, keep your hair on. You might not like it; it’s not made of my shoe.” She reached down into the saddlebag pocket on her left and pulled out a small loaf of bread. She broke it in two, one half for her, the other for Orixar.  
He shot her the dirty ‘is this all you have? I’m better off starving’ look, but crunched on his half.

“Better now?” she asked.  
In his own little way of replying, Orixar swallowed quickly, and started off at a canter, causing Reaveth to nearly choke.

“Blasted little bugger,” Reaveth muttered fondly as they rode off towards the looming snow-covered mountains.

Reaveth made camp for probably the hundredth time a fortnight later. She had untangled Orixar’s mane a while back, but her handiwork was in vain.

 

* * *

“Easy boy,” Reaveth whispered pulling Orixar to a halt. According to the map Reaveth had also “borrowed”, ironically from the same pirates that “gave” her Orixar, they were at the foot of the Misty Mountains also known as the Carahras Mountains.

“This is as far as you are going with me,” she informed him as she dismounted.  
Orixar shook his mane and gave her the puppy-dog-eyes look.

She rolled her eyes. “No, Orixar, you will go as you please, just do not follow me, understand?”  
Orixar didn’t appear to like the idea.

“Good.”

She walked over to his side, unlatching the girth’s straps. She lifted the saddle off, and removed the bridle. She laid the tack down onto the ground. Some other traveler could pick this up if he wanted; she had nothing to do with it now.

“No need to restrict you.” She paused. “Actually, I want you to go back to Beck. Give him a heck of a time for me, will you?” She put a hand to his forehead. “I release you from my service.”  
He blinked.

“Now get a move on, and may Eru guide your hooves.” She gave the silver horse a hearty slap on the rump to reinforce her command.

            “Here goes,” Reaveth muttered, and began the trek to the foot of the mountains.

The snow pelted her like little needles.

* * *

 

She had crossed the snowy Carahras Mountain ranges, and wandered into the vast forest of Lothlórien, utterly oblivious to where she was and what lived there. As she looked around, she saw thousands, maybe millions, of Mallorn trees. They’re like Redwoods, except have large golden, oak-leaf-shaped leaves. The bark is almost silver, but just a notch paler, with a subdued hue of gold below. She also spied many Age-worn paths, for Lothlórien is over three entire Ages old, which is extremely long, even for an Elven realm. The superstitious kind say the forest is home to a sorceress, who never allows anyone to return to the place they came from, making them wander the woods for an eternity. It rarely storms there, if ever, and because of this people believe it is some Elvish spell, cast by the dark witch, who reigns with her evil minions.  
She kept walking along an old beaten path, calling out her mother’s and brother’s names.  
Celeborn, the lord over Lothlórien, inquisitive pale-blue eyes shining in the sun, was walking through the woods as well, when he heard cracking twigs, leaves shuffling, and the quiet echo of a voice. He followed the sound warily, his bow strung, 'til he found Reaveth, lost and starved, limping through the forest, calling out. He walked up to her quietly, making her jump, and quiver with fear.   
“W-w-who a-are y-y-you??” the girl asked, her voice quivering, and her worn dagger unsheathed.  
Celeborn smiled gently, waving down her dagger. “I am Celeborn. Who are you?”  
“Reaveth Telcontar,” she answered, warily watching his movements, not re-sheathing her blade.  
Celeborn was interested in this girl, although he did not show it.  
 “What is this place?” she asked, figuring if he wanted to harm her, he would have done so earlier. She also looked around at the huge Mallorn trees.   
“This,” Celeborn explained with pride obvious in his voice. “This is Lothlórien.”  
“You must be an Elf!” Reaveth gasped, noticing his pointed ears, and his willowy-build.

“Yes,” Celeborn replied. “Would you like to meet more Elves?”  
“Yes sir!” Reaveth smiled.   
“Follow me,” Celeborn said, and led her through the forest to the Elven Realm of Caras Galadhon.  
Another Elf, this one with dirty blonde hair, and green-blue eyes met them.   
“Celeborn...” she murmured quietly. “Who is this?”  
“Another heir,” Celeborn replied in an undertone. “Her name’s Reaveth.”  
The Elf’s eyes grew wide with shock, and looked from the lord of Lorien, to the girl, and back again.  
He nodded truthfully.  
Reaveth was busy taking in the scenery, and did not hear, nor see, their conversing.  
The she-Elf cleared her throat politely.  
Reaveth had been watching a butterfly, of a marvelous golden color, and the sudden noise startled her, and she turned around to face the others.   
“I am Galadriel; the Lady of the Wood,” the second Elf said. “And you are..?”  
“Reaveth Telcontar is at your service m’lady,” Reaveth humbly replied as she bowed.  
Afterwards, Reaveth was given food and shelter.  
That night, after Reaveth had fallen asleep, Gandalf the Grey, an elderly, grey-haired (and bearded) Wizard, had gone to the border, and had been met by Galadriel and Celeborn. Celeborn told Gandalf of how Reaveth had been found, and Galadriel did not speak.   
“Reaveth...” Gandalf murmured. “Why does that sound so familiar?” he mused for a long while, and remembered Gilraen asking him something while he passed through Rivendell. “She asked if I had seen Reaveth anywhere...” he muttered to himself.

Celeborn cocked his head trivially, his long dirty-blonde hair swaying slightly, hearing something more than Gandalf’s muttering.

Reaveth tossed and turned in her sleep as nightmares invaded her dreams.  
Galadriel glanced at her husband, and the old Wizard, who nodded. She looked with pity at Reaveth, and closed her eyes as she delved into Reaveth’s mind.


	2. Chapter 2

_The sky was blood red, and wind whipped around Reaveth as she dreamed. There was a harsh battle-cry, and screams of terror from a small group of people. Reaveth saw herself, a small three-year-old hiding behind her mother with Aragorn, and her father fighting off the Orcs in her dream._  
The battle raged on for a while, Arathorn parrying the blows from the Warg-Riders.  
Arathorn gave a gasp of pain and shock as a black shafted arrow struck him in the chest.  
Gilraen was frozen in horror as Arathorn fell to his knees momentarily.  
Arathorn struggled to get up onto his feet. He got up, and began fighting the Orcs off his family again. Another arrow struck him, and he fell once more. Obviously unable to defend himself, he lay there, and a Warg leapt at him.  
Reaveth and Aragorn began to sob before it was over, and Gilraen fled, carrying her children.

  
Reaveth murmured something no one could understand in her sleep, and fidgeted slightly, but did not wake. Celeborn hoped Galadriel would find something out soon. Neither he, nor Gandalf were comfortable waiting.  


_As they ran, the group was surrounded by Orcs.  
Gilraen scooped up Aragorn and Reaveth, and ran towards the River. Orcs and Wargs alike raced after them. The Orcish-archer who had killed Arathorn fired multitudes of arrows after them, one just missing Gilraen’s feet. To her misfortune, she slid on the wet ground, and dropped her children. The Orcs and Wargs paused to observe it, and out of confusion and haste, Gilraen leapt up, and grabbed Aragorn, but forgot Reaveth in the rush, and ran across the Loudwater River. Water rushed from the Misty Mountains, seemingly summoned by magic, and flooded the great river, but Gilraen could not get back to get Reaveth when she realized she had left her._

 

Reaveth leapt up sweating, and Galadriel’s eyes flew open.

“Where are they?!” Reaveth demanded, her voice high in terror, thinking she was still in the dream.  
When they didn't reply, but looked sadly at each other. She sat depressed, as she realized she wasn’t dreaming, and remembered she was in Lothlórien, lost without her family.  
Galadriel walked towards the forest, and beckoned for the others to follow.   
“Go back to sleep,” Gandalf said kindly. “It was only a dream.”  
Reaveth obeyed him without complaint, and sleep fell once more upon her when she lay down.  
Gandalf and Celeborn walked silently to where Galadriel stood, waiting.   
“What did you find out?” Gandalf asked quietly.  
Galadriel re-told Reaveth's dream exactly the way it had been, and Celeborn bowed his head. “Arathorn was a noble man,” he murmured.   
“And he was the King of Gondor,” Galadriel added softly.   
“What shall we do with Reaveth then?” Gandalf asked.   
“We will keep her here, ignore her past and keep her safe. At least, until she is ready,” Galadriel answered seriously.

“Is that the wisest thing to do?” Gandalf asked quietly. “Keeping secrets from one who has been through so much pain already?”

“They will be hunted all their lives by Sauron, it is best,” Celeborn murmured. “He will not stop until the last heirs of Gondor are dead.”  


Arwen had returned to Rivendell, desperate to tell Gilraen of her daughter’s whereabouts.

She ran through the city, but did not find Gilraen anywhere. Arwen sought her father.

“Have you seen Gilraen? I found Reaveth.” Arwen asked.  
Elrond turned to her, and replied sadly. “She left.”

Arwen was crestfallen. “What about Estel? Can I tell him?” she asked, hope flickering in her heart.

“No!” Elrond snapped sternly.

Arwen flinched at her father’s rogue tone.

“No,” Elrond said, his voice softening. “Do not tell him of his sister.”

“But why?” Arwen asked with a sad expression on her face.

“He’s gone through enough,” Elrond said stubbornly.

Arwen sighed, and gave up the argument, and gazed out the window.

Aragorn, otherwise known as Estel, was playing with the Elf children, laughing, but Arwen knew in her heart that he missed his family more than anything.

“Gilraen left him a week ago, to go to the Grey Havens,” Elrond said softly, noticing Arwen’s gaze. “Only saying: ‘I give my hope to Men, but I keep none for myself.’ She left because there is no hope.”  
“There is always hope,” Arwen whispered, a flare of determination lighting in her eyes to get her father to believe there was hope left.


	3. Chapter 3

Three years later, Reaveth wandered outside of Lorien’s borders, thinking she could find something exciting elsewhere. A twig cracked, and she whipped around, her silver dagger glittering in the bright sunlight.

A dark haired Elf with weather-stained clothes and boots caked in mud stepped out of the forest.

“Duma Tathren at your service,” she said, bowing.

Reaveth didn’t reply, but looked at Duma in confusion. She looked quite roguish, but still had the Elven tinge to her appearance.

“Yes,” Duma laughed, seeing Reaveth’s puzzled expression. “I am an Elf, from Mirkwood, I have news for the Lord Celeborn, does he reside somewhere near here?”  
“Err- yes, he lives in the forest,” Reaveth said, still confused.

“Good, come! Let us go there together, you can lead me there, but first, what is your name?”  
“Reaveth, Reaveth Telcontar.” Reaveth replied, trusting Duma a bit more now, and sheathed her dagger.

“No!” Duma exclaimed suddenly. “Orcs were wandering the paths to this forest, do not put your dagger away!”

Reaveth hesitantly unsheathed her dagger again.

Reaveth walked with Duma at her side, along the path where Celeborn had found her.

Haldir greeted them halfway through the trip. “Reaveth!” he exclaimed.

“Duma, this is Haldir,” Reaveth introduced.

“Duma Tathren at your service!” Duma shook Haldir’s arm heartily, being used to Dwarves and Men, who had very strong handshakes.

“Haldir, this is Duma,” Reaveth continued. “She’s a friend. She wishes to speak with Celeborn and Galadriel.”

Haldir nodded to Duma, still a little stunned by her strong handshake to do much else, and took them deeper towards Caras Galadhon.  
As they walked, Reaveth finally got to get a good look at Duma.

Her hair was dark, long and wavy, she reminded her of Arwen a little, except Duma had very tanned skin, and dark brown eyes. Reaveth also noticed that Duma’s clothes were old and well worn, which was odd for an Elf.  
Duma felt Reaveth’s eyes watching her, and turned her head slightly as she shot her a small smile.

No one met the three as they walked through the Elven city; they stopped at the base of the tallest Mallorn tree.

“Thanks for coming with us,” Reaveth said, nodding to him.

“Any time Reaveth,” Haldir replied, and walked away.

“Come on.” Reaveth said to Duma, and walked lightly up the marble stairs with her in tow.

 

 

Celeborn and Galadriel met them at the top of the stairs.

“Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn,” Duma bowed.

“Ah, Duma Tathren of Mirkwood,” Celeborn said smiling. “What brings you to Lothlórien?”

“An urgent message from Lord Thranduil,” Duma replied seriously.

Galadriel looked uneasy, and stiffened suddenly as she said: “Reaveth?”

“Yes?” Reaveth asked, wondering why she had stiffened.

“You need to leave.”  
“But--?” Reaveth tried to retort.

“Now!” Galadriel commanded.

Reaveth walked slowly back down the stairs, her head hung. “What could be so important that I have to leave their presence?!” she asked aloud. The other’s grave voices echoed from far above, and Reaveth sat down on a stone, her heart heavy.

When Duma walked down the stairs, Reaveth stood up eagerly. She frowned when she saw Duma’s face was grave. Duma quickly changed her expression to a smile. “Come on, I know you were listening.”  
“No I wasn’t!” Reaveth exclaimed. How did she know?

“I’m just pulling your leg,” Duma laughed.

After a moment of silence, Reaveth decided to ask questions.

“What were you talking about?”  
“None of your business!”  
“Sorry, I was just curious...” Reaveth said, looking at her feet.   
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Duma muttered. She wanted so badly to tell Reaveth, but Galadriel and Celeborn made her swear not to tell anyone, especially Reaveth.

“Please?” Reaveth begged again.

“No!” Duma repeated firmly.

“Fine, then don’t tell me. I was just curious,” she muttered quietly, not finishing her sentence and looked down.

 _She_ really _misses them_... Duma thought with pity. Galadriel and Celeborn had filled her in before she had told them the message.  
  
It had been four weeks since Duma had arrived in Lothlórien, and they were sitting by the same spot they first had met.  
They didn’t speak for a while, but then Reaveth sighed and looked up at the clear skies. “Duma?”  
“What?” Duma asked, hoping desperately that she wasn’t going to ask for more information. Reaveth had been dogging her about it the whole time.

“What’s it like in Mirkwood?” Reaveth asked curiously. “I kind of want to go there… I mean, I like Lothlórien and all, but… it would just be interesting to go somewhere else,” she paused. “Well, at least more exciting than sitting here doing nothing.

“Well…” Duma began, but then a thought just struck her, and she got up.   
“Hang on a second,” she said quickly, and then, heaving herself up from the mossy ground, flitted through the forest, and trotted up the stairs of the tallest Mallorn tree.

“Celeborn?” Duma called as she got to the top of the steps.

Celeborn appeared. “Duma! What is it?” he asked. By the tone of Duma’s voice he thought Orcs were attacking Lothlórien.

“Can I take Reaveth to Mirkwood?” Duma asked. “She said she wanted to go,” _And she said a few other things that she’d kill me if I told you._ She thought with a grin coming to her face.

Celeborn thought for a few seconds, and then spoke: “If Thranduil won’t mind, you may take her. If he does, then she must come back here.”  
“He will, trust me. And thank you!” Duma bowed low, and ran back to Reaveth.   
“You can go to Mirkwood!” Duma exclaimed, bursting with anticipation.   
“Wait- what?” Reaveth asked.   
“You can come with me back to Mirkwood!” she repeated.   
“Seriously?” Reaveth said, very excited now.

“Yes! Come on! There’s no time to waste, follow me!” Duma ran out of the Wood with Reaveth running alongside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2018 Hindsight: Duma is a huge massive lesbian regardless of what middle school me thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Duma sang an old tale in Quenya, the High-Elves’ language, as they walked along the great Anduin River.

“What’s that song about?” Reaveth asked curiously.   
“Hm? Oh, it’s the tale of Númenor, a song about the group of Men of the West called Dúnedain.”

“Dúnedain? What are they?”

“They’re Men from Númenor, and slightly related to Elves.” Duma said, careful not to tell Reaveth too much. Celeborn and Galadriel would definitely would beat her senseless if she spilled the beans.

“Númenor?” Reaveth asked curiously.

“It was a great City, near Valinor, the West, but it was destroyed...”

“Oh,” Reaveth murmured, and they dropped the subject.

They walked on in silence for a while, and then Duma exclaimed: “At last! Mirkwood!”  
Reaveth looked up and down. “Where?” she asked, unable to see it.

“Right in front of you!”  
Reaveth still didn’t see it.

Duma sighed. “The forest,” she said, annoyance creeping into her voice.  
Reaveth looked hard at the huge trees in front of them. “Oh!” she exclaimed, as saw the beaten Elven path in the forest,

“Come on, follow me, but don’t wander off, or it’s to your doom, there are spiders wandering the lands, descendants of Shelob, huge and ugly things they are, and quite tricky to kill,” she paused for a dramatic effect. “Unless you know how to kill ‘em.”  
Reaveth scooted a little closer to Duma, jumping at any sudden cracks or rustles.

It was a good thing that she did, because just then, a huge black spider, bigger than Reaveth and Duma put together, leapt out of the brush.

Duma ran at the spider, yelling curses in Elvish, and they tussled ferociously for a moment, but in the end she managed to dispatch it.

“Yuck!” Reaveth spat as black-gut-like things began to ooze out of the corpse.

“He’s likely to have friends, hurry up and follow me!” Duma ran down the path, Reaveth racing after her.

“More?” Reaveth exclaimed as they ran past another huge pine tree.

“Yes,” Duma said, slowing down to a fast walk. “They tend to go around in groups. Stupid beasts.”

Reaveth slowed down as well, and they moved in silence, very alert.

Another crack. Duma and Reaveth whipped around, looking for any sign of giant spiders.

The cracking noise seemed to fade away after a moment.

“Probably a squirrel?” Reaveth asked shakily.

“We’re almost there,” Duma said, not answering her question.

Reaveth gasped as the great gates of Mirkwood appeared when they reached a clearing.

Duma waited impatiently, fingering her sword, as the silver gates slowly swung open. “Come on,” she said, and walked in.

Reaveth looked around for a second, checking for more spiders, then followed quickly.

No Elves met them as they walked deeper into the woods.

“Where are they?” Reaveth asked, looking around for any Elves. This wasn’t like Lothlórien at all. It was rather empty, but there was a feeling that there were Elves. The buildings, Reaveth supposed that was what they were, either held inhabitants, horses, or weaponry.

“They’re here, you’re just not looking in the right places,” Duma muttered, and shook her head slightly. Humans could be so daft sometimes.

Reaveth looked around again, but still saw no Elves, so gave up.

Duma suddenly made a sharp turn to the right, past a great birch tree, and Reaveth skirted after her.

Another gate, this time of great magnificence, with its golden patterns and silver handles, appeared in front of the two.

It opened without as much as a squeak, and Duma walked slowly through it, Reaveth following.


	5. Chapter 5

Duma halted suddenly, making Reaveth nearly crash right into her.

Duma turned. “Now listen closely,” she said seriously. “I don’t know how Thranduil will act, but he seemed to be in a--”

“You mean to say, you never told anyone that you were bringing me to Mirkwood?!” Reaveth exclaimed.

“Well-- Not exactly, no...”  
Reaveth muttered to herself.

“But as I was saying, he usually is okay with Humans; Dwarves are a different matter; but just in case, don’t speak unless you are spoken to directly,” Duma instructed.

Reaveth nodded solemnly, hoping that going to Mirkwood was the right thing to do after all.

“Ok, good, now let’s get going.” Duma strode toward the great building.

Reaveth took off after her.

 

Reaveth gawked at the art and windows as they walked along the hallway.

Her thoughts were interrupted as her Elvish counter-part whispered. “We’re here,” and she knocked gently on the great wooden doors.

“Who is at the doors of Thranduil, king of Mirkwood?” a fair Elven voice asked from inside.

“Duma Tathren and a friend.” Duma declared.

“Come in,” another voice, slightly deeper than the first, called from inside.

Duma opened the heavy doors with ease, and beckoned Reaveth to step inside.

A blonde Elf with brilliant blue eyes was standing by Thranduil, who was brown haired, and had dark green eyes.

Thranduil whispered something in the other Elf’s ear; the blonde Elf did a small bow to Thranduil, and left without glancing at the other two.

“Duma, who is this?” Thranduil asked, looking at Reaveth with narrowed eyes.

“Reaveth Telcontar, sir.” Reaveth said, and bowed.

“Where did you come from?”  
“Lothlórien, sir,” Reaveth answered.

“Ah, Lothlórien!” Thranduil exclaimed. “Duma, did you get the message to them?”  
“Yes Thranduil.” Duma replied.

“Good.” Thranduil said. “I hope there was no trouble going there and back,”  
“It was hard to find the place, I got lost in the net of Moria,” Duma explained.

“Moria?!” Thranduil exclaimed. “What drove you there?!”  
“Servants of the Enemy.” Duma said seriously.

 _The Enemy?_ Reaveth thought, _Who in the name of Elbereth Gilthoniel is_ the Enemy _?_  
“I was stuck down there for about a week and a half. Then I escaped, finally, and made my way back to Rivendell, Lord Elrond pointed me in the right direction, then I was off again.”

Thranduil did not comment, but was deep in thought.

“And when we made our way down the Path, one of the spiders attacked us.” Duma continued.

“Four attacked your brother, Daedhor, while he was scouting for Orcs.”  
“Daedhor?! Is he all right?!” Duma demanded.

“Yes, he’s quite fine now. A little jittery, but generally okay. He should be around though. I’ll arrange shelter for your friend, so you both can go find him.”  
“Thank you, sir!” Reaveth exclaimed, and bowed.

“Yes, thank you Thranduil,” Duma bowed as well, just not as low. “Come on Reaveth, let’s go find my brother.”

They walked out of the king’s halls, and Duma climbed up a tree, calling for Daedhor.

  
Daedhor was wandering the woods when he heard Duma’s call. “Duma?” he asked aloud, and began to make his way back to the source of the calling.

 

Duma saw bushes rustling, and leapt down from the tree. A dark haired Elf with green eyes popped out of the large green bush.   
“Daedhor!” Duma exclaimed, and bear-hugged him.

“Duma!” Daedhor said, trying not to be completely crushed by his sister’s massive hug as she squeezed the oxygen out of him. “It’s- good to see you too.”

When Duma released her brother, she said. “Daedhor, I’d like you to meet Reaveth Telcontar, from Lothlórien.”  
Daedhor smiled, and shook Reaveth’s hand.

“Reaveth, this is Daedhor Tathren, my brother.”

“Hi,” Reaveth said, returning the smile. Then she remembered the blonde Elf in Thranduil’s halls. “Daedhor, do you know an Elf that has blonde hair and blue eyes?” she asked.

“That’s Legolas, Lord Thranduil’s son; he’s the messenger for him.” Daedhor explained.

“Speaking of that Elf,” Duma said slowly. “Does he seem- I don’t know- a little out of it?”  
“What do you mean?” Daedhor asked, very confused.   
“I mean, he’s awfully quiet now.”  
“He was always quiet Duma, you know that!”  
“I know, but he didn’t even glance at us as he left.” Duma murmured.

Daedhor finally understood what she meant. “Duma, for pity’s sake, if you honestly think that, go and tell him in person.”  
“Daedhor,” Duma laughed, hugging her brother. “Sometimes, I wonder why I even talk to you.”

Reaveth was sitting on a rock, watching a cloud when Duma tapped her on the shoulder. “I’m going to take you to meet Legolas.”

“All right!” Reaveth exclaimed, leaping up from the rock.  
She waved goodbye to Daedhor, and followed Duma down to a stream.


	6. Chapter 6

Legolas was sitting on a boulder by the river, gazing out at the sky.

He turned away from the river as he heard Duma and Reaveth’s approaching.

“Duma,” he acknowledged. “Who is this?”  
“Reaveth Telcontar, sir,” Reaveth said, with a small bow.

“I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood-” Legolas started to say.

“Oh enough of the stuff about being _‘Prince of Mirkwood’_ ,” Duma laughed. “You’re not exactly in the place to be making speeches to ‘subjects’ now are you?”

Legolas gave Duma the evil eye with a grin. “But you can just call me Legolas.”

“Am I expected to announce my name and rank too?” Duma joked.

“So you’re Thranduil’s son?” Reaveth asked Legolas, interrupting Duma’s bad wisecrack.

“Yes, the one and only,”  
“Speaking of fathers,” Duma said. “Have you seen Dúrven?”  
“No,” Legolas replied while a breeze came down and blew their hair.

“That figures.” Duma muttered. Her father was never there when she wanted him.

“Reaveth, Duma, would you like to see something?”  
“What?” Reaveth asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Legolas said with a smile. He softly tramped back toward the Gates. The other two followed.

“No one can know of this,” Legolas said quietly. “Not Daedhor, not my father, not Lord Celeborn. Absolutely no one. Do I have your oaths?”

Duma and Reaveth nodded.

“Ok, good, follow me.”

He pushed through some brush, and they walked into a clearing.

Two paths lay ahead, covered in grass and surrounded by trees.

“How the--?” Duma stuttered.

“Where do they lead?” Reaveth asked.

“Lothlórien and Rivendell,” Legolas answered.   
“Which one goes to Lothlórien, and where does it end up?” she asked.

“Left goes to Lothlórien, and it ends up near the tree you’ve slept by.”  
“How did you-?!”

Legolas beamed. “‘Curiosity killed the cat.’”  
“Legolas, you so did not!?” Duma exclaimed.   
“What?” Legolas asked innocently.

“You spied!” Reaveth and Duma accused.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘spying’, I’d call it: ‘over curiosity.’”

“You’re a little sneak,” Reaveth said. “But...  you’re a genius!!”  
Legolas grinned broadly.

A lonely howl spooked Duma, who grabbed Legolas’ hand. She noticed after too late, and they both looked embarrassed. Duma released his hand.

Reaveth was too busy looking down the path to the right to notice.

“So,” Reaveth murmured. “You can just walk straight down one of these paths... and then get to Lothlórien or Rivendell...”  
“Correct,” Legolas answered slowly, his right eyebrow raised slightly.

“Interesting,” Reaveth murmured, and would have taken a step down the path to Rivendell if Duma hadn’t grabbed her shoulder and gripped it tightly.

Reaveth looked up in surprise. “Sorry.”

Duma muttered something, and let go.

Legolas looked up at the darkening sky. “It’s getting late, we’d better get back.”  
“Okay.” Reaveth agreed, then they quickly but silently ran back to the Elven city.

 

Dúrven whisked past the three as they passed the Gates of Thranduil.

“Father!” Duma yelled after him.

Dúrven’s turquoise eyes did not, nor did his graying head, take notice of his daughter, and sped off into the growing darkness.

Duma muttered.

Daedhor came running up to them. “Where in the world were you?!” he demanded.

“Somewhere…” Duma replied shiftily.

Daedhor was about to reply when he noticed Legolas.

“Prince Legolas,” he bowed low.

Legolas studied Daedhor with narrowed eyes, and then walked through the Gates.

“Smooth.” Duma smirked.

“Shut up,” Daedhor muttered. “What were you three doing?”  
Duma put her hands on her brother’s shoulders, looked him straight in the eye and said: “Nothing that you need to be poking your nose into.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This begins what was pulled from a literal, physical copy of this work.

Legolas sighed as he knocked quietly on the oak doors of Thranduil’s court.

“Enter.”  
He slowly opened the door, and stepped inside.

Thranduil did not look up until Legolas was halfway down the court.

“Legolas!” Thranduil exclaimed, rising from his chair. “Where in the name of Elbereth have you been?!”  
“I was where I always go, by the river.” Legolas replied quietly.

“I’m sure you were farther than that.” Thranduil growled.

“So what if I was?!” Legolas snapped.

“You could have gotten lost, or Orcs could have gotten to you!”  
“Honestly father,” Legolas said seriously. “No one from the Enemy in their right minds would dare cross our borders. Not even Morgoth himself.”

His father glared at him for mentioning the cursed name. “Rumors are that Orcs have been moving around our borders, and even daring to come into our land,” he murmured gravely and quietly.

“Does Lord Elrond, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel know of this evil?”   
“No, I just sent Dúrven out to Rivendell; you must take Celeborn and Galadriel this message.” He handed Legolas a scroll. “You can take Duma and Reaveth with you if you’d like.”  
“Yes my lord,” Legolas bowed, and then ran out of the court.

He began to search frantically for Reaveth and Duma, calling their names.

Duma saw him racing around like a crazy cockroach, and called: “Over here!”  
Legolas skirted over to her, and sighed with relief. “Where is Reaveth? We need to deliver a message,”  
“I’m here,” Reaveth spoke, walking up to them.

“Good,” Legolas retold Reaveth what they had to do. “We’ll need some horses,”  
“That’s an easy one.” Duma laughed, and ran off towards the stables, returning in a moment with three horses.

Legolas mounted his horse while Duma gave Reaveth a leg-up, then clambered onto her own.

“Now, to the Paths!” Legolas said with a silent motion of his hand.  
They galloped off toward the direction of the Paths.

They took a sharp right turn at the stump of an oak, and slowed to a halt in front of the vines and ivy that covered the entrance of the clearing.

“Come on,” Legolas said, and they trotted into the clearing.

The Pathways loomed in front of them.

“Let’s go,” Reaveth said, and walked her horse toward the Path to the right.

“Reaveth!” Duma and Legolas exclaimed.

Reaveth jumped; she had no idea why she kept walking towards the Rivendell Path.

“This way,” Legolas hissed, and they trotted into the left Pathway.

 

Reaveth and Duma gazed in awe at their new surroundings. There were huge trees bordering the grassy path, and they could hear a slight trickle of water. The only other sound was the sound of their horse’s feet on the mossy path.

“Is it-?” Reaveth began to ask Legolas.

“Uninhabited? No, there are animals that use these Paths as well.”

“Who made the Paths, Legolas?” Duma asked.

“The Elves of the Second Age, before the War began, they made these paths so they could go from each realm to the other easily and quickly.”

“You mean that this- we’re walking on the fabled Paths of Old?” Reaveth piped up.

Legolas looked at her. “Yes, how did you come know of them?”

Reaveth hesitated. “Erm- Haldir mentioned it…” she muttered.

He raised an eyebrow, but did not ask any more.

The sun was sinking behind a hill, and Reaveth began to feel drowsy on her horse.

“We’ll stop in a moment.” Legolas murmured.

When the full moon came up, they halted, dismounted, and tied their horses to a tree.

“Do we have anything to eat?” Reaveth queried, with her belly rumbling.

“Lembas, Lembas, and – Oh yes, more Lembas,” Duma said with a sarcastic tone, and tossed her some.

“Thanks,” Reaveth smiled, and ate it.

Legolas and Duma did the same, and they fell asleep.

After about five days of hard riding, with small thirty minute breaks every five hours or so, Reaveth was getting tired of the outing.

“How much further?” she complained.

“Almost there,” Legolas comforted. They stopped at another opening.   
“Stay here, I’ll come back for you if the coast is clear.” He dismounted, and slipped out of the hole.

He searched for any sign of anyone else, but saw none, then ran back to them.

Duma and Reaveth nodded, dismounted as well, tied their horses to a tree once more, and not needing any instruction, the three went out.

 

They ran up the marble staircase silently, cloaks flapping quietly behind them.  No one met them, until they reached halfway up the stairs. Haldir nearly crashed into Legolas, but halted just in time.

“Haldir!?” Reaveth exclaimed.

“Haldir, no time to explain, where are Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel?” Legolas asked quickly. “Are they here?”

“I just spoke with them.”

“Thank you.”

The three ran up the stairs, leaving Haldir only to guess what they’re rush was.

 

“Legolas, Duma, Reaveth!” Galadriel exclaimed. “What brings you here?”

“An urgent letter from Lord Thranduil, my Lady.” Legolas said, and bowed as he gave her the message from Thranduil.

Celeborn walked quietly up to Galadriel, and read the message as well, his face growing grave, and his eyes narrowing.

“Thank you Legolas…” Celeborn murmured quietly.

Legolas bowed slightly again, and motioned for the others to copy. After doing so, they began to move towards the steps that lead back down to the ground.

“Wait a moment,” Galadriel called.  
They halted.

“Stay here the night.” she said, believing that they had traveled for months.

Duma and Legolas nodded, and then the group went down the stairs.

“It may be late, but we need to get a move on,” Legolas whispered. “If we linger, even for a little we might as well give up on going back.” Duma nodded. Old wounds open up if you agitate them, just like old memories. They looked at Reaveth, who merely shrugged, then they stole off towards the Path entrance.

They slipped inside, and began the five day ride to Mirkwood.  


“Keep up, but be quiet. My father will expect us back in a month or so... I suggest we all keep a low profile,” Legolas hissed as they approached the end of the trail.

The two nodded understandingly, and they snuck off to bed.

  
A battle raged on, Duma could tell that, though the area was very hard to make out, and any faces she saw, were difficult to match as well.

“Charge!” a voice cried, and Duma whipped around in time to see two familiar faces. Daedhor and Thranduil. Both clearly were already stained by the battle, with cuts and bruises, and the occasional notch in their swords.

“No,” Duma whispered. “Daedhor, no, don’t do it!”  
Daedhor was unable to hear her, obviously, because it was a dream, though Duma seriously believed it had more of a meaning. She attempted to follow the army, hoping to stop the definite ending, but then Duma woke suddenly from the terrible nightmare, breathing hard, and sweating. She looked around, but all was quiet. Sighing, she laid her head back down, desperately begging to get a good sleep for once, without the evil omens disturbing her sleep. To her utter annoyance, sleep did not come. Duma heaved herself up, and wondered absentmindedly if Legolas would be up at this hour; the sun hadn’t even came up over the horizon yet! Deciding against waking Reaveth, she quietly stole away.

As she reached the river, to her surprise, Reaveth and Legolas were already awake, and whispering, their heads close together. Duma accidently tread on a twig, and the two leapt up, sword and dagger drawn.

“Alae!” Duma squeaked, raising her hand in surrender.

“Oh,” Reaveth sighed with relief. “It’s just you, Duma,” as she said this, she re-sheathed her Elvish dagger, and Legolas did the same with his sword.

“What in the world are you doing up?” Duma asked suspiciously.

“We couldn’t sleep,” Legolas replied, stifling a yawn.

“And I was curious about Elven lore,” Reaveth added. “Haldir was lidded about it, and so were Celeborn and Galadriel. – By the way, Duma, do you know anything about the Tree Age?”

“The Tree Age?” Duma echoed in shock. “Since when have you even known- or even heard- about the Tree Age?” she glanced at Legolas, half amused, half annoyed.

“Since about twelve minutes ago, from Legolas,” Reaveth replied truthfully.

“That’s what I thought.” Duma muttered.

“Well? Do you?” Reaveth pressed on.

“Er—no…” mumbled Duma. “Not much…” Then she noticed Reaveth’s downcast expression, and added “You’d be better off asking Lord Thranduil or Lord Elr…” she stopped, remembering her promise to Celeborn and Galadriel.

“Who?” Reaveth asked.

Duma made no attempt to reply.

“Who?” the girl repeated, annoyance seeping into her voice.

“Nobody, she was confused,” Legolas interrupted, giving Duma a _just play along with it_ look.

Reaveth glared at Legolas for the intrusion, but said nothing more.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been at least a year, that Reaveth had been residing in Mirkwood, maybe more, she couldn’t tell. Once you’ve lived among Elves for a while, there’s almost no way to track the time.

Reaveth waited by the Gate. Today was the day when she had to go back to Lothlórien. Duma had told her about the agreement between her and Celeborn: Reaveth could only stay for a year or so, not forever. Though Dúrven had given her a number of lectures and constantly complained about her residence in Mirkwood, and that it was ‘a danger’ to the Elves peace, she still wanted to stay.  
Reaveth began to daydream, but awoke as she heard the quiet clip-clopping of Duma, clad in a brown and green tunic, and the two horses she was leading on foot.

“Time to go…” Reaveth told herself softly, and heaved herself up from the boulder she was sitting on. Duma stopped the two horses, and motioned for Reaveth to mount the silver mare to her right.

Reaveth nodded thankfully. “Can we take the long way?” she asked as she clambered up with a grunt. “I’d like to stay _away_ from boredom as long as possible.”

Duma smiled. “Of course,” she replied, and mounted her dark brown stallion with the greatest of ease.

A sudden rush of hoof beats echoing from behind, made them both look over their shoulders, to see Legolas, riding up to them on his white stallion.

“Well, would you look who decided to join!” Duma exclaimed happily as Legolas’ horse came to a stop.

“You forgot something,” Legolas said.

Reaveth’s brows furrowed. Was Legolas not coming after all?

“Me!” Legolas laughed.

Reaveth smiled. “Don’t pull my leg like that!” she joked.

Duma was about to comment, when suddenly, her horse gave a sharp whinny.

“All right, all right!” Duma exclaimed. “We’ll be going in a minute, keep your hair on,” she twisted around to Legolas and Reaveth. “Are you two ready?”

“Yes,” came the reply.

“Good, come on,” Duma nudged her horse with her knee, and they set off at a gentle canter.

 

It had been a few hours of riding, and Reaveth kept wondering what Rivendell looked like, and why everyone was so tight-lipped about it. Naturally, Duma interrupted her thoughts. Again.  
Reaveth swore silently as Duma said “Reaveth, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important,” _Just the fact that you always interrupt me when I’m thinking about something important!_ Reaveth added in her head.

Duma’s eyes narrowed, but shrugged.

Legolas was studying Reaveth carefully; his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Luckily, Reaveth however, did not notice, and he looked away before suggesting: “Let’s take a break.”

Reaveth merely shrugged, and dismounted. Duma slid down as well, and patted her horse’s neck gently.

“Are you hungry?” Legolas asked his counter-parts.

“A little,” Reaveth admitted.

“Same here,” Duma agreed.

“Here,” Legolas handed them both some Lembas.

“You Elves sure like your way bread,” Reaveth commented, fingering her food.

“Well, would you rather starve?” Duma asked good-humoredly.

“No!” the girl exclaimed, and took a hasty bite.

Legolas laughed quietly to himself.

After they had eaten their fill, and fed their horses, they remounted their steeds.

Reaveth sighed, _at least month more of riding_ , she thought.

 

It had been about two uneventful weeks of riding, when Reaveth looked up from the fire.

“I think I heard something,” she murmured to Legolas.

Legolas’ eyebrows creased slightly.

There it was again. Rustling noises and they seemed to have been coming from the bush next to their camp.

“Let’s go check it out.”

“All right, fine, but let’s be careful shall we?” Legolas said.

The other two nodded.

“Let’s get this over with,” Legolas muttered.

Reaveth unsheathed her dagger, then the trio crept to the shrub. Reaveth leapt into the bush, and pinioned the intruder’s arms.

“Ai!” an Elf cried.

“Mórfin? Did you find something?” another Elf with black hair and green eyes called from the bushes as he shoved through the shrubs.

“Dúranu-- Mórfin?!” Reaveth exclaimed, releasing Mórfin from her hold. “Why are you two out here?”

Mórfin leapt up, flattening out her light brown hair, and pulling out twigs and leaves.

Dúranu sighed with relief. “Reaveth,” he murmured. “I’m so glad you’re not--”

“We were chasing Orcs,” Mórfin interrupted. “They dared to--”

“They said that we were ‘Stupid Elves’,” Dúranu quoted. “And they bet that we were dafter than rocks, and that our heads were hollow,” he paused, then added. “They regretted it later.”

“We gave them a little—taste of how ‘stupid’ we really were,” Mórfin smirked.

“We killed five, and the other three ran for their lives,” Dúranu joked. “I _think_ we got them all.”  
Mórfin and Dúranu both snorted with amusement at the memory.

Mórfin was the first to recover from the laughing fit. “So, where are you three heading now?” she inquired, still shaking with the giggles.

“We’re going back to Lothlórien,” Reaveth informed her friends from the Elven stronghold.

“Back--?” Dúranu looked confused.

“Duma,” she nodded in the dark haired Elf’s direction. “And I went to Mirkwood.”

“Duma?” Mórfin asked suddenly. “Duma Tathren?”

“Erm- yes,” Duma replied, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Lord Celeborn wanted to know whether or not Reaveth was staying in Mirkwood,” Mórfin continued.

“Which is why we’re out here, instead of back in Lothlórien,” Dúranu finished Mórfin’s sentence.

Reaveth suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to introduce someone. “Dúranu, Mórfin, this is Legolas.”

Dúranu and Mórfin both gave a short bow; Legolas nodded slightly to them, still fingering his sword, in case they tried anything rash.

“I guess we’ll have to travel together now,” Mórfin concluded.

“I suppose,” Duma said, smiling. She liked these two newcomers.

 

            Reaveth awoke, shivering. It was snowing once more.

“It must be close to Yule,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her arms together. “Or we’re close to the mountains…” She scooted closer towards their horses. Cirian, Legolas’ horse, snorted softly in Reaveth’s hair.

“Aren’t you cold?” Reaveth asked him, rubbing his nose affectionately.

Duma’s horse, Ajax, butted his head into Reaveth’s arms.

“You’re so jealous,” Reaveth laughed softly; the others were still asleep, and the fire was down to the coals.

Windswept, Reaveth’s mare, was watching her companions.

“See? Windswept isn’t jealous,” Reaveth giggled.

Something, which suspiciously sounded like heavy blankets, stirred a little ways away. Reaveth jumped, and her eyes darted around the tree-line, expecting an ambush.

“Reaveth?” a voice asked, sounding sleepy.

She turned, and mentally sighed with relief as she saw Mórfin gazing inquisitively at her.

“I’m up,” Reaveth whispered back, her breath rising like steam.

Mórfin nodded slightly, and went over to the little bunch.

“It’s chilly,” she commented, shivering.

“Just a little,” Reaveth replied. She whistled softly to Windswept, who went down to her knees, and Reaveth cuddled up to her horse.

Ajax and Cirian snorted indignantly. “Hey, I’m cold too,” Mórfin laughed, and snuggled up to Ajax and Cirian.

After a while, the sun began to peek out from behind the snowy horizon.

“Finally,” Reaveth breathed, enjoying the sudden warmth.

They sat in silence for a short while, then, Duma, Legolas and Dúranu finally began stirring.

“Time to get going,” Mórfin smiled.

“I suppose,” Reaveth yawned.


	9. Chapter 9

A harsh noise that resembled a whisper spooked Cirian, who reared up and began prancing around, making Legolas and Mórfin jerk backwards.

“Easy, Cirian!” Legolas exclaimed, gently patting his horse’s neck. “What’s wrong?”  
Duma and Dúranu, who were mounted on Ajax, felt his muscles stiffen and tried to put him at ease by petting him and whispering encouragement to him.

Windswept seemed to be the only horse calm outwardly, but Reaveth could sense the mare tensing, and her ears were pricked.

“What was that?” Duma asked.

“I don’t know, perhaps an Orc,” Legolas suggested. “Or maybe that strange deformed creature that’s been lurking around us all week.”  
Reaveth shivered slightly in disgust, both were horrible.

“Either way, we need to keep going,” Legolas continued, noticing Reaveth’s uneasiness.

“The sooner we get going, the better,” Dúranu agreed.

Reaveth nudged Windswept with her knee, making the mare walk ahead of the other two horses. Then, turning around, she called. “Come on then, let’s get moving!”

Duma rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Your Royal Highness.”

 

“I still think we should have gone left,” Reaveth argued.

“What’s done is done; why can’t you two just shut up about it?” Duma asked, annoyed.

Reaveth and Legolas ignored her.

“If we had gone left we would have been heading towards Moria,” Legolas quarreled.

“No,” Reaveth snapped back. “Left went to Lothlórien. We’ve got to turn back or we’ll run into the mountains.”

Mórfin, Duma and Dúranu all sighed. Those two had been keeping this up all day, ever since they came to a fork in the path. Legolas had proposed that they should go right, and everyone but Reaveth had agreed; and she had been arguing with him for it all day.

“We will _not_ crash into the Misty Mountains,” Legolas argued again stubbornly.

“Fine, whatever you say. But when we get stuck in the mountains, don’t come crying to me!” Reaveth spat angrily.

“But-?” Dúranu tried to intervene.  
Legolas grumbled inaudibly, ignoring Dúrven, and kicked Cirian farther ahead. Duma cast an annoyed behind her, to Mórfin, who sighed in return. Dúrven turned slightly towards the other two and shrugged in defeat.

“Idiot,” Reaveth muttered under her breath as Legolas went ahead.

 

They marched on until the tops of the Misty Mountains were definite, and Reaveth decided in spite of her nature, to rub it into Legolas’ face.

“I so _told_ you so!” she bragged.

Legolas looked liable to explode as he took deep breaths.

“Now we’re going to have to march all the way back, _while the snow melts_! We’ll all be freezing cold, tired, and hungry, all because you didn’t listen to me.”

“Reaveth, shut up already!” Legolas yelled, unable to take it.

Everyone else, including the horses, looked sharply at the two.

Reaveth made a face, then trotted off.

“Why can’t they just get along like in Mirkwood?” Duma asked the sky.

“It’s probably because we’re all tired of traveling,” Mórfin put in from behind.

“If you had said anything else, I would have said that you had drunken a bit too much ale.”

“I feel sorry for Dúranu,” Mórfin said. “Maybe we’ll find a little town or something to buy some more horses.”

“We don’t have any money,” Duma pointed out.

“It’s okay, I’ve got some, and so does Dúranu,” Mórfin said. “And if none of that will cover it, we could always just ransom Legolas.”  
Duma nodded in amusement.

  


Reaveth looked up from her meal, and glanced around. It must have been spring, or some season like it, because the snow was beginning to melt, and she could just make out the little sprouts of grass peeping out from the frost.  
Legolas finally came back from his patrol, and arrived back at their makeshift camp. Everyone looked up from their food.

“I’ve got good news, bad news, and really bad news,” he said glumly.

“Oh dear,” Mórfin commented.

“Well, tell us the bad news already,” Duma urged.

“The bad news is that as much as I hate to say it, Reaveth’s right. We’ve got to turn back.”  
The whole camp, Reaveth excluded since she was smirking, seemed to heave a sigh of annoyance.

“And the horrible news?” Reaveth ventured.

“I saw storm clouds.”  
“Oooh, storm clouds, I’m frightened,” Reaveth said sarcastically. “That’s not too bad, just a little snow, right?”  
“Wrong.”  
“Wrong?” Duma echoed.

“Wrong,” Legolas repeated. “It’s not snow, it’s a thunderstorm-cloud.”  
“And it won’t be rain,” Dúranu guessed. “Will it?”  
“No, it’s more likely to be hail,” Legolas sighed.

“Of course. That’s what we get for going the wrong way,” Duma moaned.

“Shut it,” Legolas said stiffly.

“And the good news?” Reaveth asked.

“There’s a small town, just a little bit ahead.”  
“And you’re supposing that they’ll have--?”  
“Horses, shelter and supplies,” Legolas answered.

Reaveth nodded.

“A small town?” Mórfin wondered aloud.   
“Yes, that’s what I just said,” Legolas replied, a little annoyance creeping into his tone.

“It was- well, rumored- that there was a little town called Aldwater, around this area, and it had been…” Dúranu trailed off. “Well, never mind. I’m sure it was just rumor.”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed suspiciously. “No, I’m curious. Tell us about it.”  
“Okay…” Dúranu hesitated for a moment as everyone got comfortable around the little fire in the middle of camp.

He took a deep breath.

“Well,” he began, but was cut off as a disaster struck. Orcs had apparently been gathering around their small campsite, drawn to the smoke from the fire, and had thought this would be a nice time to surprise them.

Reaveth was the first to realize this, and yelled frantically “Ambush!” as she unsheathed her newly forged long, white, Elvish dagger as Orcs and Wargs poured into camp.

Dúranu had strung his bow and was shooting down Orcs before they knew what had hit them.

Duma noticed a massive Warg bowling down the hill towards Legolas, who was busy fighting off three Orcs with his sword, and yelled “Legolas! Watch behind you!” but he couldn’t as another two joined the scuffle. So she took matters into her own hands, and leapt onto its huge back with her dagger, and dispatched it smoothly.

Legolas turned just fast enough to see the big creature fall to the ground with a dull thud.

“Thanks,” he called.

“Don’t mention it,” Duma yelled back as she leapt after an Orc who had pinned the struggling Mórfin down.  
No one had seen Reaveth struggling as she shoved back a massive Warg, who was snarling and snapping at her neck.

“Er-- A little help here?!” she asked, panicking a bit now. This wasn’t her first fight, but it was definitely the first fight she had with Orcs _and_ Wargs. It was Dúranu who saved the day, by shooting an arrow, which thudded into the side of a now stunned Warg. It was enough.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, then attacked another Orc, adrenaline pouring into her veins.

Dúranu nodded then continued his efficient killing.

“Ugh, there’s-- too-- many!” Mórfin yelled, dodging a huge Warg.

“There’s never too many!” Duma shouted back, laughing. “Only too little!” After dispatching the Orcs following, she aided Mórfin.  
Reaveth eradicated another four Orcs, but there seemed to be a million more appearing after that.

“How many can there possibly be?!” she exclaimed.

“Apparently a few more!” Dúranu replied sarcastically, and shot down another three.

Reaveth saw a Warg and rider waiting for an unfortunate member of her band. This horrified and angered her, as she remembered what the same pairing had done to her father. Throwing caution to the wind, she gave a screech and attacked. The two were taken by surprise as she climbed swiftly up the saddle, and dueled the rider. The Orc wasn’t exactly equipped for an enraged Reaveth, and was killed; his mount soon following.  
For a while, it seemed the battle would never cease; but finally, Reaveth noticed the enemy ranks thinning out extremely.

“They seem to be disappearing,” she commented.

“Don’t lose concentration!” Legolas quipped.  
After a little while, the Orcs’ strength had obviously lessened, and they were finished quickly.  
Dúranu had run out of arrows during the battle, and had flitted around the battlefield, gathering up every arrow he could find. He had nocked an Orc-arrow, but when he tried to fire it at an Orc, it flew haywire, and landed in a tree.  
Finally, the Orcs retreated, all wounded, if not dead.  
Reaveth and Dúranu leaned against a tree, both of them panting.  
Duma mumbled something inaudible as she stepped gingerly over the bodies littering the snow-covered ground, and Legolas cleaned his sword, which was covered in black blood.  
Mórfin’s eyes grew wide as she glanced around the icy grass, but she was still too exhausted to comment.

Out of the group, Reaveth was the first to recover from the fight. “Where are our horses?” she asked Dúranu.

“I think-- they got spooked and ran off.”

Mórfin had recuperated as well. “Where the devil did they come from?” she asked to no one in particular.

“Ald-- Aldwater,” Dúranu replied, still panting.

Legolas looked up from his sword. “Aldwater,” he murmured. “Dúranu, what was it you were going to tell us about Aldwater?”

“Well, I suppose I might as well tell you,” Dúranu said. “Aldwater was allegedly a little village, inhabited by Elves and Men,” he paused, then added. “And Dwarves.”

“Wait a minute,” Reaveth interrupted. “Why in the world would Elves and Dwarves live--?!”

Dúranu cut her off. “If you would quit interrupting me; I don’t know, it was just a rumor. Anyways, they had lived in peace for a while, and then the Dark Lord’s forces attacked them. They were ill-equipped, and had to flee, otherwise they would be wiped out completely.”

“Wow,” Reaveth commented. “Such _brave_ souls.”

“Shut up,” Dúranu muttered, then raised his voice as he said. “Rumor has it that they had recaptured the town, -- or at least a little of it.”  
Legolas nodded slowly as he took this in.

“So you’re saying that we shouldn’t go over there for supplies?” Duma asked finally.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t, I’m merely saying that it might be overrun with Orc-kind.”

“I think we should still go there. Just in case.” Legolas said.

“Okay then,” Reaveth announced. “All in favor of going to this little town- Aldwater- raise your hand.”  
Legolas, Reaveth and Mórfin raised their hands.

“All in favor of going back to Lothlórien without going to Aldwater, raise your hand.”  
Dúranu was the only one who raised his hand.

Reaveth glanced at Duma. “Duma, why didn’t you raise your hand?”

“I don’t want to do either.”

“Fine,” Legolas said. “All in favor of _not_ freezing their skin off, soaking wet, while _walking_ back to Lothlórien, raise your hand.”  
This time, everyone raised their hands.

“Then it’s settled,” Reaveth told them. “We’re to go to Aldwater.”

“Come on, follow me,” Legolas called. “But keep your eyes peeled for anything.”

“And how does he suppose we’re going to peel our eyes?” Reaveth asked, giggling.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the boy previously known as Aragorn.

Meanwhile, in Rivendell, Aragorn, now known as Estel, was skipping stones in the Great River. He counted the skips of each stone, as he threw them. “One, two, three, four…”

Arwen silently came up behind him. “Are you bored?” she asked.  
Estel leapt up from his crouched position, his dagger unsheathed.

“It’s okay!” Arwen exclaimed, amazed at the boy’s speed. “It’s only me.”

“Oh, it’s you, Arwen,” Estel sighed, and sheathed his dagger. “I thought you were Elrond coming up to bother me again.”

Arwen rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t _bother_ you.”

“Yes he does!” Estel argued. “I swear, he takes the time out of his day just to bother me by saying things like: ‘Estel do this. Estel do that. Estel, don’t touch that. Estel don’t read these scrolls,’” Estel imitated Elrond’s voice. “‘Estel, clean your plate. Estel, groom the horses. Estel, you’re not allowed to have any fun until I say you can.’ He’s so annoying! I hope a Balrog eats him.”  
Arwen sighed quietly and didn’t reply.  
Estel threw a rock angrily into the quiet river, then watched the ripples.

“He drives me crazy,” he muttered.

Arwen silently agreed, but said. “You know he only wants to do what’s in everyone’s best interest.”

Estel turned around. “So,” he said. “Making me sit around, doing absolutely nothing, and being bored to death, is in _everyone’s_ best interest?”  
Arwen merely shrugged. Estel could be so stubborn sometimes. But that’s what she admired in him, his stubbornness. Not even her own father could be _that_ stubborn.

Estel muttered something about grumpy old people as he threw another rock.

After a few moments of silence, he murmured “I’m not really an Elf, am I?”  
Arwen looked at him with a sad expression and shook her head slowly.

“That’s why everyone treats me like I’m different; because I _am_ different.”  
She nodded again, ignoring the nagging fact her father would be seriously angry with her later.

“I knew it,” he muttered. “I knew it. I knew I wasn’t an Elf. I’m a Dúnedan.”

Arwen raised an eyebrow curiously. “How do you even know what the Dúnedain are?”

It was Estel’s turn to shrug. “I read it in one of the ‘forbidden’ scrolls.”

Arwen laughed. “So you did read the scrolls. Ada said you had, but I had argued your innocence.”  
Estel giggled along with her.  
As they were recovering, Elrond stormed up to them, his dark-grey hair looking slightly wild.

“Oh great,” Estel moaned, laughter cut short. “Speak of the devil.”

“Estel, I told you not to leave the city,” Elrond grumbled.

“Give him a break!” Arwen snapped at her father.

“Don’t encourage him!” Elrond growled, his steely blue eyes shining angrily. “He’s done enough damage.”

“What are you going to blame me for this time?” Estel sighed.

“Nothing much,” Elrond said. It was a bit of an understatement. “The only thing on my mind right now is the fact that you broke into the scroll room.”

Estel gave an innocent smile. “I might have read just a few…”

“A few?” Elrond exclaimed. “A few?! The whole room was a disaster!”

“Eh, I might have misplaced a couple of the scrolls.”  
Elrond clapped his hand to his forehead in annoyance.  
A rustle startled Estel, Elrond, and Arwen.

“What was that?” Estel asked slowly.

“I don’t know,” Elrond replied. “But it’s not good. Come, let’s go back.”  
Estel was on the brink of being stubborn again, but more rustling came, this time accompanied by quiet mutterings. It alarmed him so much that he came quietly with them back to the city.


	11. Chapter 11

Aldwater peeked up from a small valley.  
“Is that it?” Reaveth asked in shock.  
“Yes, it is,” Dúranu said.  
“It’s not very- _big_ – is it?”  
“No, not really.”  
Duma was peering towards the town, her dark chocolate-colored eyes squinted, and exclaimed suddenly “I see something moving!”  
“What does it look like?” Legolas asked.  
“It looks like—people!”  
“Orc-people, or people-people?” Mórfin asked.  
“People-people,” Duma replied. “They’re too thin to be Orcs.”  
“Oh good.”  
Reaveth peered down the valley. “It’s going to be too steep to take the horses down..” she said.  
“Let them loose,” Duma suggested.  
“I suppose,” Reaveth said.  
After they got the loyal horses to leave them, Legolas said “Follow me, this is the way down.”   
He flitted carefully down the hill, followed closely by his companions.  
Duma accidentally made a misstep on the melting snow, and would have slid down the hill, if Legolas hadn’t taken her hand.  
“Thanks,” Duma breathed, her heart racing for many different reasons.  
Legolas nodded, and they kept trudging slowly down-hill.  
  
            After what seemed like an excruciatingly long while, they reached the bottom, and the ruined city was more visible.  
“Wow,” Reaveth gasped. “They really did ruin this place.”  
“Yes,” Dúranu answered. “I’m surprised it still even stands.”  
Legolas and Duma were already scouting ahead, but Duma looked behind them and called “Come on!”  
“Wait up!” Mórfin called; and the three slackers ran after them.  
The two scouts slowed down slightly as the rest of the group ran up.  
“Finally, you slow-pokes!” Duma laughed.  
Reaveth ran up to them, refusing to be a ‘slow-poke’.  
“Your friends enjoy being slow-pokes?” Duma joked.  
“No we don’t!” Dúranu yelled, and raced up to them.  
“Hey!” Mórfin yelled, and sped after her brother.  
Legolas sighed as they strode closer towards the city.  
  
            No one met them as they walked to the supposed front pathway that lead to the heart of the town.  
“That’s weird..” Duma muttered.  
“What’s weird?” Reaveth asked.  
“The fact that it looks uninhabited!” Duma exclaimed.  
“Ah, yes,” Reaveth admitted. “That is a little weird.”  
The whole group could smell Orcs. Reaveth had figured out that Orcs smelled extremely rancid, especially when in small areas, and there’s not much fresh-air to filter out the stench.  
Suddenly, something stirred, and Legolas and Dúranu instinctively drew their bows.  
“Who’s there?” Dúranu demanded, his bow nocked.  
There was no reply, only more shuffling.  
“Show yourself!” Legolas yelled, pointing his bow in the noise’s direction.  
“Don’t shoot!” a frightened voice squeaked.  
“Come out!” Reaveth called, her dagger drawn.  
To their surprise, three creatures crawled out from behind some shrubs.  
“What are your names?” Reaveth demanded.  
“I’m Chess,” the first Human, who was weather-worn, and had brownish red hair with green eyes, said, and turned to his companions. He pointed to the Elf next to him. “This is Osack.”  
Osack gave a small nod, his blue eyes curiously watching them.  
“And this is Iris,” Chess introduced, glancing at his short friend.  
She was generally short, had short-cropped light bronze hair, and brown eyes. Reaveth also noticed that Iris had no shoes, and oddly fuzzy feet.  
“I’m a Hobbit,” Iris explained.  
“Oh,” Reaveth said, and held out her hand. “I’m Reaveth.”  
Iris took Reaveth’s hand, and shook it heartily.  
Both the girls beamed, and Reaveth introduced her other friends. “This is Legolas, Duma, Mórfin and Dúranu,” she said, indicating each of them.  
“Hi,” Chess smiled.  
“Do you three live here?” Legolas asked.  
“No sir,” Iris said, then paused for a moment. “Well, I didn’t live here for a while. I used to live in Bree.”  
“Osack and I live here.” Chess added.  
Osack nodded. “Yes we do,” he murmured.  
“He’s rather shy and soft-spoken,” Iris whispered to the newcomers.  
Reaveth nodded in agreement.  
“Are there any more?” Duma asked. “I mean, is it just the three of you?”  
“Nay,” said Iris. “There’s a few more, but just a few. Most have already fled across the mountains, towards my homeland.”  
Two rounds of barking startled the group.  
“It’s all right!” Iris comforted. “It’s only Spryte. Come on out girl!”  
A ginger and white spotted collie-like dog popped out from behind a ruined wall.  
“Spryte’s Iris’ dog,” Osack explained quietly.  
Reaveth laughed as Spryte leapt up, trying to lick her face.

“Spryte!” Iris commanded. “Don’t jump on our guests.”  
“It’s all right,” Reaveth laughed as she bent down to scratch the dog behind the ears  
“It looks like Spryte’s found a friend,” Chess said, holding back the giggles.  
Spryte gave a bark when Chess had mentioned her name.  
Duma went over to Reaveth and Spryte, and laughed as well when Spryte turned around, and started to lick her hand.  
Iris beamed.  
“Well, come on,” said Chess at last. “I suppose you’re all starving.”  
“Yes sir!” Mórfin exclaimed as her belly rumbled.  
“Follow me,” Osack called, becoming less shy of these newcomers.  
With Osack, auburn hair and all, leading the way, and Iris, in company with Spryte, bringing up the rear, they moved along the outskirts of Aldwater.  
Reaveth noticed that someone or something had began following them as they marched along.  
“We’re nearly there,” Chess informed them.  
“What’s following us?” Reaveth asked nervously, glancing behind them for what must have been the fourteenth time.  
“It’s only Adlór,” Iris said. “Osack’s cousin.”  
Hearing her name, Adlór, a curly brown-haired girl, who looked about twenty-three, came into view.  
“Osack… Who’s this you’ve brought?” she asked, motioning to Duma, Dúranu, Mórfin, Legolas, and Reaveth.  
Chess introduced the newcomers.  
“Welcome to Aldwater,” Adlór said. “Well, at least what’s left of it. The Orcs did some serious damage, and when we came back, it was in worse shape than now. We’ve been working on it ever since.”  
“Trust me, it looked a lot worse,” Chess commented.  
Osack nodded in agreement.  
“I can imagine,” Dúranu said, glancing around.  
They walked on, chatting contently, until Chess raised his hand, signaling for them to stop.  
“This is camp,” he said.  
Reaveth glanced around. She saw a few makeshift tents, and a small fire-pit. It rather resembled a temporary camping expedition, with less than needed supplies.  
“It’s not much,” Iris told them sadly, noticing Reaveth. “But it’s home.”  
“It’s perfect,” Reaveth murmured, remembering the times she was all alone in the wilderness. Compared to that, this was like living in a mansion.  
Lorech, Chess’ sister, heard all of the racket, and came out of her tent.  
“Chess, what’d you bring back this time?” she asked, her blue eyes annoyed.  
“Lorech, this is Duma, Reaveth, Legolas, Dúranu, and Mórfin,” Chess said, indicating each person.  
“Nice to meet you,” Lorech said, shaking each of their hands. “I’m Lorech, Chess’ sister.”  
Reaveth smiled at her as they shook hands.  
“Osack, you’ve got to remember to put out the fire when you leave with Chess and Iris,” Lorech said, with a hint of good-humor. “Our tents nearly caught fire.”  
Osack’s cheeks turned a crimson red.  
“Osack, you forgot to put it out _again_?!” Adlór exclaimed. “You oaf!”  
“Well, if anything didn’t get burned to a crisp,” Osack pointed out. “Then there was no harm done.”  
“Wait a minute,” Lorech interrupted. “I didn’t say nothing got burned.”  
Osack’s eyes grew wide, and his cheeks turned a brighter red. “What got burned?” he asked feverishly.  
Lorech paused for a moment, then burst out laughing.  
“What?” Osack demanded.  
“I was just kidding, you gullible fool!” Lorech snickered.  
Osack sighed, and rolled his eyes.  
“I’m starving,” he complained.  
“We can’t eat yet,” Adlór argued.  
“Why not?” Osack demanded, his stomach growling.  
“We haven’t finished the border patrol.”  
“Border patrol, smorder patrol,” Osack sassed.  
“How about Reaveth and I go for the border patrol?” Chess volunteered.  
“Hey!” Duma exclaimed. “She didn’t say she wanted--!”  
Reaveth interrupted. “It’s fine, I’ll go with Chess. Lead the way.”  
Chess nodded, and the two set off.  
Spryte, very curious, trotted off after them.  
Reaveth turned around, and tugged at Chess’ sleeve.  
“No Spryte,” Chess commanded.  
Spryte’s ears drooped, and Reaveth walked over, and gave her a scratch behind the ears, then the dog set off back to camp, her tail wagging slowly.  
After Spryte had left, and they were well out of anyone’s earshot, Chess spoke again.  
“A man called Gandalf the Grey came to us a few weeks ago. Said that a group of travelers were going to come to our camp, and that we should welcome them as guests, not enemies.”  
“Gandalf?” Reaveth asked. “Are you sure? Last I heard, he was in—never mind.”  
Chess shrugged. “He looked like an elderly man, with a long grey beard, and bluish-grey eyes. Does that sound like Gandalf?”  
“Yes,” Reaveth replied.  
“He gave me a letter to give to a girl named Reaveth,” Chess continued. “And I’m assuming that’s you.” He took out a folded piece of parchment from his shirt pocket, and handed it to her.  
Reaveth nodded, and opened the letter.  
It read:  
  
_Reaveth,  
If you are reading this message, I’m urging you _ not _to go back to Lothlórien, nor Mirkwood. Actually, don’t go anywhere but Aldwater.  
Both Celeborn and Thranduil have forbid me to tell you why, but it is too important for you not to know.  
You do remember the tales of the Last Alliance I hope?  
Well, Sauron’s forces have been massing around their cities, and it is too dangerous to go back.  
Stay with Chess and his band for a while, they’re trustworthy, until either you hear some news, or a message (or messenger) comes.  
If a messenger does come, make sure he at least tells you his name and your own name, otherwise, you might be forced to use other methods. —well, let’s just say, it might be messy.  
Please be careful!  
_  
It was signed with the Quenya Elvish rune for ‘G’, which stood for Gandalf, as far as Reaveth knew.  
“Thanks,” Reaveth said.  
“Do you mind if I read it?” Chess asked.  
Reaveth hesitated, but remembered Gandalf’s words about Chess being trustworthy, and replied “Sure,” then handed it to him.  
 Chess read it quickly.  
“I’ll keep an eye out for anything,” he said.  
“Let’s just hope there’s somewhere to go back to,” Reaveth murmured.  
Chess smiled. “There will be, don’t worry.”  
Reaveth shrugged. “Shall we go on with our patrol?”  
“We don’t need to, Adlór lied, because she knew I needed to give you this,” he replied, motioning to the letter.  
“Oh, then should we get back?”  
“I suppose,” Chess sighed.  
  
They walked back to the little camp.  
“How was the patrol?” Legolas asked.  
Reaveth wasn’t paying attention, so Legolas asked again.  
“Oh, it was uneventful,” Reaveth replied, still not sincerely paying attention, and she walked over to Duma, who was talking with Iris, Dúranu and Mórfin.  
“Can I have a moment with you Duma?” Reaveth asked.  
Duma got up. “Sure,” she said.  
They walked into the tent that Chess had assigned the girls, and Reaveth closed the tent cover.  
“What’s going on?” Duma asked curiously.  
“Chess gave me a message from Gandalf,” Reaveth explained. “I thought you should read it, then we perhaps we could show it to Legolas.”  
“Well, don’t keep me waiting, let me see it!” Duma laughed.  
Reaveth smiled. “Okay, okay! Keep your hair on!” Reaveth giggled, and she took out the rough-looking parchment, and handed it to Duma.  
She opened it, and read it eagerly.  
“Oh my--,” Duma gasped, her hand flying to her forehead.  
“It’s pretty bad, I know. All we can do, is pray that somehow we’ll have a miracle happen, and home’ll be still in one piece when we get there,” Reaveth said.  
Duma sighed. “That’s a comforting thought.”  
Reaveth shrugged. “I suppose. Do you think that we should show Legolas?”  
“Sure.”  
They stepped out, and walked over to Legolas, who was busy talking with Dúranu and Chess.  
“Legolas, I’ve got something you’ll want to read,” Reaveth told him.  
“Okay, then hand it over,” Legolas said.  
She nodded, and gave him the letter, and his expression was nearly identical to Duma’s.  
“But- I thought- this doesn’t make any sense!” he stammered. “This can’t be happening!”  
“Apparently it’s happening,” Reaveth grumbled seriously.  
“No,” Legolas denied. “This makes no sense at all.”  
“It might not, but apparently it’s happening right now,” Duma repeated.  
“What’s all this about?” Dúranu demanded.  
Legolas leaned over, and whispered in Dúranu’s ear.  
“We might as well tell Mórfin,” he said finally, after recovering from the shock.  
_Or all of the camp, why in the world do we need to tell_ everyone _?_  
“Tell me what?” Mórfin asked.  
As Dúranu told Mórfin what Legolas had told him, Reaveth went up to Chess, who was sitting quietly, watching them talk.  
“Should we light a fire?” she asked.  
Chess looked at the sky. “I think we should, it’s getting late. It’s likely to get chilly,” he said. “But I suppose that’s what you get if you live at the foot of a giant mountain.”  
Reaveth laughed. “I suppose.”  
Chess heaved himself up. “I’ll help you get the firewood.”  
“Sounds good to me, show the way,” Reaveth replied.  
They walked over towards the outskirts of camp, and Chess showed Reaveth the firewood stack.  
“If you get too cold,” he told her. “You can always light the fire, but remember to put it out.”  
Reaveth smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t get cold,” she answered. _I’ve braved years alone, and I’ve even crossed the Carahras Mountains. I doubt you have.  
_ They lifted some of the lumber off the pile, and trotted back to the fire-pit, then dumped it.  
Reaveth stepped back to let Chess light the fire, and watched the flames grow, licking the wood.  
Dúranu, Mórfin and Duma turned to enjoy the warmth, as Legolas kept reading over the message, as if he had misread something.  
“You read it right you know,” Reaveth informed Legolas.  
“I know,” he responded. “But it’s just so strange. I always thought- well- that we were _invincible_ ; completely safe from his forces.”  
“So did I,” she admitted. “But now what we’ve thought was impossible is happening.”  
Legolas dropped his head.  
Reaveth smiled sadly, and gently put her hand on his shoulder.  
“It’ll be all right,” she told him. “We’ll pull through this.” Secretly, she was trying to convince herself that there was hope for their homelands. She had lived in both Mirkwood and Lothlórien for so long, that she considered them her adopted homes.  
“I know _we_ will,” Legolas whispered, and looked at her. “But what about our friends?”  



	12. What Appears To Be The Final Chapter, Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This looks like the last chapter in my "first book". It's a doozy.

Meanwhile, in Mirkwood, Daedhor raced back from the border, and rushed through the hallways of Thranduil’s court, then skidded to a halt as he knocked urgently on the doors.  
“Come in,” a familiar voice called.  
Daedhor heaved the doors open, and trotted up to Thranduil, bowing quickly.  
“What is it?” Thranduil demanded.  
“Orcs,” Daedhor panted. “Orcs, - thousands of them- at the border!”  
Thranduil sighed heavily. “I knew this would happen,” he murmured, apparently to himself.  
“Begging your pardon, my lord?” Daedhor said.  
“Nothing,” Thranduil answered.  
“Oh.”  
“Gather our men,” Thranduil commanded.  
“Yes my lord,” Daedhor replied. “Will there be anything more?”  
“No,” answered Thranduil. “That will be all.”  
Daedhor bowed, and skirted out, completely in a tizzy.  
  
Finally, after about thirty minutes, Daedhor had rallied up the soldiers, to his surprise, was met by Thranduil, fully dressed in his battle-worn armor.  
“Are you ready?” Daedhor asked, signaling for the rest of the group to stop.  
“Apparently,” Thranduil said, with a slight smile.  
Dúrven stormed up to Thranduil, and demanded. “Where is my daughter?!”

“Dúrven!” Daedhor exclaimed. “Didn’t you hear?”  
“What?” Dúrven snarled.  
“Duma and Legolas went with Reaveth back to Lothlórien,” Thranduil told Dúrven.  
“She went with the--!” Dúrven made a curt bow to Thranduil. “I’m sorry for interrupting, -- my lord,” he hissed.  
Thranduil glared at him. “I should think so,” he growled at Dúrven as he retreated back to the army.  
“Lord Thranduil,” Daedhor tried to apologize, but Thranduil cut him off.  
“It’s all right, he was only worried,” Thranduil said.  
Daedhor nodded, though he disagreed completely.  
  
  
In Rivendell, Elrond was gathering his troops as well.  
“What’s going on?” Estel asked Arwen, who looked paler than the full moon.  
“ _He’s_ sent his armies to destroy us,” Arwen murmured, fear obvious in her voice.  
“But- why?! What have we done to Him?!” Estel demanded.  
“That’s just his nature. He’s pure evil, a servant to Morgoth.”  
“But how come-?”  
He wasn’t able to finish as Arwen gave him a sharp “Shhh!”  
Estel gave her a short dirty look since she stopped his assault of annoying questions, then looked up as Elrond, calling out orders, led his men towards the Orc-bombarded borders.  
After the small army was out of earshot, Estel couldn’t hold any more questions in. “Can I go with them?” he asked.  
“Heavens no!” Arwen exclaimed.  
“But why not?!” Estel insisted.  
“Because you’re too young!”  
“I don’t care! If my family and friends are in danger,” he quarreled. “Then I want to help!”  
Arwen frowned. “You can’t go,” she replied firmly.  
“That is _not_ what I asked,” Estel grumbled back, disappointed that there was no better answer then “You can’t go”.  
“Don’t sass back at me,” Arwen snapped, her temper rising.  
Estel sensed her mood, and knowing that Arwen could get _very_ angry when agitated, stopped arguing.  
  
Across the Misty Mountains, to the west, Celeborn had realized the trouble growing long ago, and his men were prepared.  
“It won’t be long will it?” Haldir asked Celeborn, watching the occasional Mallorn-leaf fall to the ground. The ancient trees weren’t supposed to do that naturally.  
“Not long until what?” Celeborn queried, absentmindedly watching his men march by.  
“Until the end comes. And we must leave,” the other paused. “If our kindred even survive for that long..”  
Celeborn sighed, and looked up at the sky.  
There was a moment of silence between the two Elves, then Celeborn spoke again.  
“No,” he said, his blue eyes shining slightly. “The end isn’t here yet. This is just the beginning of the end.”  
“So you can feel It’s presence too?” Haldir asked suddenly.  
“Yes,” Celeborn replied sadly. “The Ring forged by the Dark Lord is back.”  
“I knew it,” Haldir muttered. “But has It been found by Sauron?”  
Celeborn glanced at him, with a hint of a smile on his face. “Nay,” he answered. “By a Hobbit.”  
“A Hobbit?!” Haldir laughed in amazement. “A mere Hobbit has outsmarted _Him_?”  
“It seems so.”  
Haldir clapped his hands happily. “Then we are not doomed!”  
Celeborn looked him straight in the eye, very serious “For now.”  
Haldir looked solemn again. “Yes, for now.”  
The two watched their soldiers march past, splashing in the melting snow, for a few minutes in silence, then Galadriel strode over to them quietly.  
“What of Reaveth?” she asked. “Will she take heed to Gandalf’s warning?”  
Haldir answered before Celeborn could even take a breath to reply. “Of course she will!” he exclaimed. “She’s not stupid you know.”  
He noticed he had spoken obviously out of turn, and his cheeks turned slightly red. “Oops, sorry.”  
“No, it’s quite all right,” Celeborn told him. “I agree with you Haldir. She’s got enough common sense to not do anything--well-- radical.”  
“She won’t do anything _too_ radical,” Haldir corrected him.  
Celeborn shrugged. “Yes, I suppose it’d be more accurate if I had said too radical.”  
Haldir laughed quietly, and Galadriel smiled for a moment, but a really short moment, because just then, they heard the loud shrieking of Orcs and Elves battling.  
“Come! Let’s get over there and help!” Haldir called, as he sprinted towards the battle.  
Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged worried glances, and then Celeborn raced after Haldir, disappearing into the Woods.  
“Is nowhere safe?” Galadriel asked softly to the wind.  
  
Back in Aldwater, Legolas and Reaveth buried themselves in work, so they could block out the thoughts of their friends dying in the horrible battles that were thrust upon them.  
Currently, they were busy fixing the drafts in everyone’s tents. Iris, Chess, Osack, Adlór, Lorech, Dúranu, Mórfin, and Duma all insisted it was fine, but they were determined to repair it anyways.  
Reaveth could clearly hear Dúranu, Lorech, Osack and Chess talking about how they’d been acting since they had read the letter Gandalf had written, but tried her best to ignore them.  
Adlór, Mórfin, Duma, and Iris had gone off to supposedly “gather some more food”, though the small group had already gotten much more than they could eat. Both Legolas and Reaveth suspected there was a bigger picture behind these ridiculous excuses.  
“Legolas?” Reaveth asked.  
“Yes?” he answered, not looking up from his patch-work.  
“I know I might have said some things, that I really shouldn’t have said,” she admitted.  
“Obviously,” Legolas muttered quietly to himself.  
“And I’m sorry for that,” Reaveth went on, ignoring his comment.  
“Well, apology accepted,” Legolas replied, and got up from the crouched position that he was in while he had fixed up the tear in the side of Osack and Adlór’s tent.  
Reaveth looked up as a drop of water fell from the roof.  
“Can you give me a boost up?” she asked, picking up her supplies.  
“Sure,” Legolas answered, and helped Reaveth up so she could patch up the rip in the ceiling.  
  
“Like I was saying,” Duma continued to her new friends while they walked through the wet forest. “It just makes no sense.”  
“I don’t see why Gandalf wouldn’t want you to go back to Mirkwood to help them!” Iris exclaimed.  
“You’re right Duma,” Lorech replied. “It doesn’t make any sense.”  
“But I suppose that if you went, Reaveth would go with you,” Adlór pointed out.  
“I guess,” Duma responded. “She does tend to do that.”  
“Speaking of her,” Iris said. “She’s no Elf, I know that.”  
“Yes, we’re not blind,” Adlór told Duma.  
Lorech nodded in agreement  
Duma blushed slightly. “Well, it’s sort of a long story, but in a nutshell, yes, Reaveth’s not an Elf. She’s a Dúnedan.”  
Iris gasped. “One of the Dúnedain?!” she cried.  
“Shhh! Not so loud!” Lorech hissed.  
It was Iris’ turn to blush. “Sorry,” she lowered her voice to a whisper. “But a Dúnedan?”  
“I thought they were extinct!” Adlór mused.  
“No,” Lorech said. “Because Arathorn was living proof they weren’t!”  
“Yes but now he’s dead!” Iris snapped. “And how did you know him?”  
Lorech sternly glared at her. “Because I met him.”  
Iris’ eyes grew wide. “Really?”  
“Yes I did,” Lorech replied stiffly.  
“Wow,” Duma breathed. “What was he like?”  
“He was strong,” Lorech informed them, trying to remember. “And tall. He also had black hair, and he had green-blue eyes.”  
Iris, Adlór and Duma all were imagining Arathorn, so Lorech continued.  
“He was really good with a bow, but what he really loved, was sword-fighting. He was pretty good on horseback…” she trailed away. “That’s all I remember. It was a long while ago, before he married Gilraen. I was at their wedding, though I didn’t see much of him. Mostly the back of his head,” she finished with a hint of laughter.  
“That’s amazing,” Iris murmured.  
“It was,” Lorech sighed.  
  
“They really took the news hard,” Dúranu told Chess.  
“Evidently,” Chess replied, as raindrops began to fall.  
“I suppose I’d react the same,” Osack put in. “I mean, if I was away from home, and my friends and kin were in danger…”  
“I’m unhappy about it,” pointed out Dúranu. “But I just face the facts, and get on with it.”  
“Here’s the catch though,” Osack indicated. “Legolas is the heir to Thranduil, no?”  
“Yes,” Dúranu confirmed.  
“And Reaveth has close friends in Lothlórien? – Besides you and Mórfin…”  
“Yes,” Dúranu answered again.  
“So both of them do have the right to be a little stressed,” Osack finished.  
“But just a _little_ , not like crazy stressed!” Dúranu exclaimed.  
“Then you might as well talk to them. Or at least Reaveth,” Chess suggested.  
“They’re not much more likely to talk with us rather than you,” added Osack.  
Dúranu shrugged. “I’ll talk to them later,” he said, though, it was an empty promise.  
“You do that,” Osack said.  
  
Reaveth and Legolas had drifted on to Chess and Lorech’s grey-green tent, which had a huge rip on the upper-left corner.  
“How in the name of Eru can they get such a big tear, and not realize it?!” Reaveth cried in shock.  
Legolas shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t want to bother anyone about it,” he proposed.  
“I suppose,” Reaveth shrugged as well.  
With that, they went to work, using the pale-yellow cloth they had found, and torn off, at one of the deserted houses in the old ruined town.  
Legolas, who was tallest, patched up the higher parts, and Reaveth covered the lower areas.  
To her own surprise, Reaveth had the itch to tell Legolas something, that might completely shock him. She knew it’d be a matter of time when he’d find out, and she had to literally bite her tongue so she wouldn’t speak. It worked for a minute or so, but then, before she could stop herself, she said. “Duma likes you, you know,” then slapped her hands to her mouth in surprise.  
Legolas didn’t seem surprised. “Most people do,” he replied, no emotion creeping into his voice, and began to work on the highest corner.  
“No,” Reaveth said. “I mean, she really like- _likes_ you.”  
“Do I seem blind to you?” Legolas asked.  
Reaveth, thinking he had taken offence, quickly apologized. “I meant no of--” she tried to say.  
“I took none,” Legolas informed her. “But what I mean, is that I can tell she likes me.”  
He leaned down to whisper to Reaveth, as if anyone else could hear them, and murmured. “Between me and you,” he paused. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”  
“Cross my heart and hope to drown in the Loudwater River,” Reaveth promised.  
Legolas nodded, knowing that to Reaveth, that was like saying ‘Before I’d say anything, I’d jump off a cliff, with no hesitation.’, and continued. “I like her too.”  
Reaveth beamed in amusement and happiness.  
“Don’t tell anyone,” Legolas reminded her softly.  
“I won’t,” she replied, still beaming.  
Legolas gave her a quick look, then they continued to mend in silence, except for the sound of the soft rain.  
  
Duma glanced at the sky, to see the sun slowly beginning to set, and clouds were moving in fast.  
“We’d better get back, or they’re send someone to go look for us,” she said.  
Lorech nodded. “Two days of sleeping outside says that Legolas and Reaveth are still working on something.”  
“One week,” Iris bet.  
“Oh come on guys,” Duma sighed.  
“A week and a half,” Adlór put in.  
Duma sighed louder.  
“All right,” Lorech mumbled. “Well, before we go, do you want to place a bet?”  
Duma stared at her coldly.  
Lorech gave up. “Okay, okay, let’s go.”  
They made their way home, squishing through the already-muddy grass.  
  
The Orcs that had attacked the borders of the Elvish Strongholds were nearly finished off.   
  
“Fall back!” A rough voice barked, and the puny Orc-lines began to retreat.  
“Finish them!” Celeborn called to his men.  
“Attack!” the Elven army yelled, and charged after the Orcs.  
  
“Keep at them!” Daedhor shouted, his black-stained armor shining in the pale moonlight.  
He jumped over the scattered bodies of Orcs and comrades alike, and killed three times as many Orcs as Thranduil did, which was quite a lot, with a great hatred flaring up in his brown eyes.  
  
“Charge!” Elrond bellowed to his force over the noise, his hair stained with blackened blood.  
The commanding officer repeated the command to his men, and they raced after the Orcs who attempted to flee.  
  
Duma tossed and turned, trying to sleep. Something wasn’t right.  
Reaveth yawned, and turned in her cot to look at Duma. “What’s wrong?” she asked.  
“I don’t know,” Duma whispered back. “Something’s gone horribly wrong in Mirkwood. I can feel it.”  
“Don’t worry so much,” Reaveth comforted her. “Everything’ll be fine.”  
“I hope you’re right…”  
  
The Orcs were finished, and the Elvish forces cried in joy.  
  
Elrond had the sad duty of checking the battlefield for fallen companions, and the rest of the army gathered up the bodies of Orcs to burn them in a pile.  
  
Celeborn was doing the same in Lothlórien, and helped the injured back to Caras Galadhon for medical treatments. So far, the worst was Haldir, who had a large wound in his side, and of course the other injuries you’d expect from fighting Orcs.  
  
Daedhor and Thranduil walked silently through the battlefield; they had already gathered the corpses, and their families were mourning over the loss. But there was someone missing, Duma and Daedhor’s father, Dúrven.  
Thranduil had said that he would turn up at some point, but forty minutes had shot by since then, and Dúrven was still gone.  
Daedhor insisted they should look for him; although his father was harsh, and ignorant, and stubborn, he still loved him. Thranduil had no doubts they would find him, but perhaps not the way Daedhor would prefer.  
They had scoured the area for at least thirty minutes, and Daedhor was getting anxious.  
“I hope we find him,” he murmured.  
Thranduil was going to reply, then he involuntarily gasped.  
“What is it?”  
Thranduil noiselessly pointed at something a little to the right of them.  
Daedhor slowly moved his eyes, afraid of  until he saw something horrendous.  
His father was weakly sitting up, his back to a tall Mallorn tree. Blood was everywhere, but it was hard to determine whose blood it was, although the king of Mirkwood suspected most of it was Orc-blood, for it was blacker than a starless midnight.  
The two raced up to him, and Daedhor fell to his knees when he reached his father.  
“Father,” he whispered, a tear dropping out of his eye.  
Dúrven moaned, and glanced up at him, with a sad, feeble smile. “You came for me,” he rasped.  
“Yes,” his son replied after a moment. “I did.”  
“When will you let me go?”  
At first, Daedhor was confused, but then he realized the awful truth.  
“No Father, I’ll help you back,” he told him, sniffling.  
“There’s nothing you can do for him now,” Thranduil told him softly.  
“There is something,” Dúrven mumbled.  
“What is it?!” Daedhor asked hurriedly. “I’ll do anything.”  
“I’d like you to forgive me,” he whispered harshly, and Daedhor was caught by surprise.  
“Forgive me for being such an abusive parent. Forgive me for ignoring the both of you, and for being a complete idiot. I’m proud of the both of you…”  
“I forgive you,” Daedhor murmured.  
There was silence for a long moment.  
Then, Dúrven’s breathing finally slowed to a stop.  
Daedhor looked down at the grassy floor, and began to sob.  
Thranduil silently glanced at the sky, and whispered “Be ie' seere Dúrven… (Be at peace Dúrven)”. He stood soundlessly for a few minutes, taking in the sad facts, then decided it was time to leave.  
“Daedhor,” he said sympathetically. “It’s time to go.”  
Daedhor didn’t reply, but whispered to his father’s body: “Im le mellon ada. (I love you father.) I should have been here to save you, I should have stayed by your side, and not have let you out of my sight..” he continued to mindlessly mumble to the body.  
“Come on lad,” Thranduil said after four minutes, and helped the grief-stricken Daedhor to his feet.  
Daedhor kept on whimpering softly as they treaded softly back to the Gates.  
  
Gandalf had not been idle while the battles had raged on, and was nearly to the heart of Mirkwood, when he suddenly met Daedhor and Thranduil.  
Daedhor seemed to have been crying, there were tear-stains on his cheeks, and even Thranduil seemed sad.  
Thranduil gave Daedhor a gentle pat on the arm, and a comforting word, then walked over to Gandalf.  
They both acknowledged the other with a slight nod.  
“Dúrven’s dead,” the Elvish king whispered to the Wizard, not wanting Daedhor to burst out into tears again.  
“We must inform Duma,” Gandalf replied, seemingly unmoved.  
“It will break her heart!” Daedhor cut in, his voice still quivering.  
“She has to know Daedhor,” the Wizard told him. “You must understand.”  
“No,” Daedhor growled. He took a shuddering breath. “You don’t understand. Our mother is gone, and now so is Dúrven.”  
Thranduil put his hands on Daedhor’s shoulders, and said “Daedhor, really. She needs to know. How would you feel, if you were told to stay away from the battle, and then your father died, and you never knew until you came back. How would it feel?” he asked softly.  
Daedhor blinked back tears as he shook his head. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, I’ll go tell her then.”  
“What?!” Thranduil exclaimed. “Wait a minute-”  
“He should go,” Gandalf put in. “A familiar face may soften the blow.”  
Thranduil thought over these words, and after a moment, he said “Fine.” Then he stalked off to his study, to recuperate, and just be away from everything.  
After Thranduil had gone, Gandalf instructed Daedhor on what he was to do, and gave him a rough map on how to get to Aldwater by horseback. The old man also suggested that Daedhor should wait for a warm day.  
There was an old saying:  
Leave on a cold and wet day, so will be the rest of your journey.  
Leave on a warm and sunny day, and good fortune will come.  
  
When a warm day finally came, Daedhor set off to find Aldwater, which turned out to be a five week expedition, even at a hard gallop.  
  
Duma however, could hardly function since she had a feeling deep down that someone important was gone. But although she was a little off, she believed she was the first to hear Daedhor’s arrival.  
“I know that sound,” she murmured. “That’s Daedhor’s horse!”  
Reaveth however, had already gone up to meet him.  
He wore a grey-brown cloak, and seemed graver than Duma, so Reaveth could not distinguish him.  
“Who are you?” she asked.  
“Reaveth Telcontar,” Daedhor panted. “It’s me, Daedhor Tathren. Don’t you recognize me?” he asked, dropping his hood.  
She squinted. “If you’re really Daedhor,” she said finally. “Then when did we meet?”  
Daedhor sighed. “Around August. By the woods,” said he, then added. “Come on. Why don’t you recognize me?”  
Duma came into the small clearing, and gasped in joy.  
“Daed!” she laughed happily, using his nickname.  
Daedhor forced a half-hearted grin, and he dismounted, only to be knocked back a step by Duma, who squeezed him like a boa-constrictor.  
“Well,” Reaveth concluded. “If Duma knows it’s you, and not some spy, then I suppose I can trust you too.”  
Duma released her brother, and he looked her in the eyes broken-heartedly.  
“Duma,” he said softly. “I need to speak with you in private.”  
Reaveth looked at them, and piped up “We should head back to camp, then you can tell her.” She glanced at the horse. “And I’d let him roam around, there’s not that much space.”  
Daedhor nodded in agreement. “Show me the way,” he said, giving his steed a gentle slap on the hindquarters.  
  
Chess looked up curiously as the three walked back into camp.  
Duma strode to her tent, and motioned for Daedhor to join her.  
“Reaveth, who’s that?” Chess asked as the siblings slipped in.  
“Daedhor, Duma’s brother,” Reaveth explained.  
“Ah,” Iris interrupted. “So he’s her brother?”  
“That’s what she just said,” Lorech pointed out.  
“I know that,” Iris answered icily.  
“Would you quit it?” Adlór hissed.  
Osack shrugged. “I wouldn’t bother,” he mumbled. “They might be at it for a while.”  
Legolas ignored them, intent on listening to Daedhor and Duma’s conversation.  
The quiet talking from the tent ceased, and Daedhor’s head appeared from the entrance.  
“Come on,” he murmured. “I suppose you’ll need to hear this too.”  
Legolas slid in with them, and Daedhor began to tell the tale.  
“The Orcs began to retreat,” he continued. “And we pursued them. They were quickly finished…” He trailed away.  
“What happened?” Duma asked, noticing his hesitation.  
Daedhor’s eyes began to gather tears, and his lower lip trembled slightly as he took a shaky breath.  
“Duma,” he whispered.  
“Yes?” she answered.  
“Dúrven’s dead,” he sobbed softly.  
Duma looked totally devastated, and hot tears formed quickly in her eyes, blurring her vision.  
Legolas was shocked, and shook his head in disbelief. Tears began to gather in his eyes as well, and he quickly shut them. Unfortunately, he could not help the fact that his shoulders were shaking.  
The relations couldn’t hold back the tears, and began to bawl uncontrollably.  
Something urged Legolas to leave them be, but he stayed for a minute more, then left.  
Chess knew that something was wrong the moment Legolas had walked out of the tent.  
“What happened?” he asked.  
Legolas took a deep, calming breath. “Duma’s father- he’s dead,” he murmured.  
Everyone gathered round as Legolas retold the story in a nutshell.  
In the end, Dúranu and Mórfin were sniffling as well. They had been friends with Dúrven for a while, and it was depressing to know that he was dead.  
“He died a hero’s death,” Iris said, her head bowed.  
“Dúrven was a warrior,” Reaveth said softly. “He knew the risks.”  
Adlór and Lorech nodded in agreement.  
The sat in silence; Reaveth listening to the quiet murmuring of Duma and Daedhor. She guessed they were meditating over their father’s death together; she was rather familiar with Elven lore and their traditions.  
It must have been at least an hour that they had sat there when Duma and Daedhor emerged from the shelter.  
They seemed nearly normal; the only thing visible in the pale sunlight, were the tear-tracks on their faces; and Chess had gone off and fixed something for everyone to eat.  
  
All of the truth went over in Legolas’ mind, like a bad dream that you can’t seem to shake off.  
The fact that Dúrven was dead, and he had a feeling that he should have stayed and helped his father protect the borders.  
Everyone else, Legolas guessed, were contemplating the news, even Iris’ rusty-orange-and-white dog, Spryte, seemed depressed.  
They all sat in silence for a few minutes, but to Legolas, it seemed like millenniums of non-stop slow-motion replays, all going around in his head.  
His blue eyes met Duma’s own brown eyes, and they held a sad, understanding, gaze for a moment, then Chess spoke.  
“We should introduce ourselves,” he said, wiping a tear off his face. “We didn’t have time earlier today.”  
Lorech saw what her brother was trying to do, and nodded in agreement.  
“I’m Chess,” he introduced. “This is Lo--”  
“I can speak for myself you know,” Lorech interrupted, and held her hand out to Daedhor. “I’m Lorech.”  
Daedhor smiled slightly, still too upset to speak, and shook her hand.  
“And I’m Iris,” Iris beamed, her face also wet, and motioned to Adlór and Osack. “That’s Osack, and that’s his sister, Adlór.”  
They nodded.  
Mórfin and Dúranu introduced themselves as well.  
“Most of us live here,” Chess continued. “Of course, as you know, your sister, Reaveth, Legolas, Mórfin and Dúranu don’t.”  
“Anyways,” Osack cut Chess short. “The Orcs invaded our town, and most of our friends and kin fled to the Rohan and Gondor region.”  
Chess resumed the conversation. “We’ve tried to fix the town, but it’s a lot harder than you think, especially when you’ve only got five people, and a dog, who can work on it.”  
Osack’s eyes gleamed mischievously as he stopped Chess again. “Then Reaveth and her band showed up.   
Chess stole the lead once more. “And we’ve been working on it for about three months.”  
Reaveth stretched her arms, which were sore from all of the improving. “It’s a lot harder than it sounds,” she commented.  
Mórfin nodded.  
Adlór decided she should get her say, and put in. “Reaveth and Legolas have been working their fingers off on our condition here,” said she, motioning around the camp.  
“Is anyone hungry?” Legolas asked suddenly, his belly rumbling.  
“I’m starving!” Osack said with a grin.  
Reaveth smiled. “Well, we’d better get cooking!”  
  
As they were eating, Duma’s gaze shifted from her dinner of bread, random fresh vegetables, and fruit, to the mountain-range, and spotted more angry-looking grey clouds.  
“Looks like we’re going to get soaked,” Daedhor said, following his sister’s gaze.  
Chess looked as well. “That’s what happens when you live by the Misty Mountains.”  
Adlór, who was done eating, said “I’ll hang the tarps.”  
The so called ‘tarps’ were actually oiled-soaked animal skins, usually bear-skins. The oil would make the tarp waterproof, as well as anything else it protected.  
“I’m finished,” Reaveth said, putting down her plate for Spryte to lick off the scraps. “I’ll help.”  
“Oh no, you don’t,” Chess scolded, pointing his fork at her. “You’ve worked way too hard all month!”  
Daedhor tried to volunteer as well, but Duma cut him off. “No, you’ve ridden for a while, and I can tell that you’re exhausted.”  
“But--?”  
“No buts.”  
Lorech began to giggle silently, and she stood up. “I’ll help.”  
And that was the end of the conversation.  
  
Reaveth standing by the empty fire-pit, wrapped in her dark-green Elvish cloak, which was stained, and wet.   
Legolas awoke. Glancing around the tent he now shared with Reaveth (since Daedhor was with his sister), he noticed her cot was empty.  
“Reaveth?” he asked quietly. There was no answer.  
Sighing, he got up, and peeked out the tent’s entrance to see where she had gone off to. Spotting the wet form outside, he blinked his eyes a number of times to be sure that it was Reaveth out in the freezing cold, and the rain. When he was sure, he attempted to walk silently up to her, though the water on the ground didn’t help. She didn’t move from her position, so he assumed she was unaware of his presence, but it turned out he was wrong.  
“I know you’re there.”  
Legolas smiled sheepishly to himself as he walked up to her.  
“Why are you up?” Reaveth asked, no emotion in her voice.  
“I was going to ask you the same question.”  
Reaveth gave what sounded like a shaky sigh, but Legolas assumed it was the rain that made it appear so.  
He narrowed his eyes, and asked. “What’s the matter?”  
“Gwanno ereb nin,” Reaveth hissed, and silent tear rolling down her cheek.  
Legolas repeated the question, ignoring Reaveth’s first reply, and this time, he got an answer.  
“Do you want to know what the problem is?” she asked, her voice wobbly, though there was a hint of anger.  
Legolas gave a slight nod.  
Reaveth threw back her hood, and looked the Elf straight in the eye.  
He held back a gasp as he saw there were tears, stockpiled in her eyes.  
“Why did we let our guard down? We could have _saved_ him!”  
Legolas was utterly confused. “Who- wait- what?”  
“I should have taken it. He shouldn’t have died.”  
“What are you talking about?!” Legolas exclaimed.  
“Daedhor.” It was all she could murmur before she began to sob, tears streaming down her cheeks harder than the pouring rain.  
Legolas shook his head, confused to the complete maximum. Daedhor was in the tent with Duma, sound asleep. They had exchanged words before the group had gone off to bed, so it couldn’t have been Daedhor. She must have been confused.  
“But- Reaveth, he’s still alive, no one’s hurt.”  
Reaveth took in a rattling breath. “I won’t be able to live with myself…”  
Legolas took her shoulders, and gave them a small shake. “Reaveth, daro i!”  
Reaveth looked up at him. “I can’t,” she whispered, and shook her head. “It’s too real.”  
He mentally sighed, and thought of what Thranduil would say: _if you can’t understand it, join it._ “Okay then,” said he. “Tell me about this dream.” He paused. “But let’s do talk under shelter; it’s freezing out here.”  
Back in their tent, the two plopped down in their separate cots.  
Reaveth recounted the dream that had kept haunting her, even before Daedhor had arrived at camp.  
By the time she had finished (after Legolas stopped asking questions while she was retelling it) dawn was almost upon them.  
“You won’t tell anyone,” Reaveth asked. “Will you?”  
Legolas hesitated, weighing out the results of each answer, then replied. “I won’t, but can I tell some-?”  
“No!” Reaveth snapped. “You won’t tell anyone on any occasion.”  
Legolas sighed; he’d have no choice. “Fine.”  
They shook hands on it, though Reaveth seriously doubted the promise would be kept.  
  
Three slow days later, Reaveth was picking at her breakfast when, halfway across the fire pit, Duma detected Reaveth was definitely down. She seemed low yesterday, but today, she looked to be lower than the dirt on the damp ground.  
Duma after putting her own plate of food down onto the moist grass, began to head towards Reaveth. Spryte however, knowing Duma was leaving her food unprotected, decided to take a chance. She trotted over, and scarfed down the food.   
“Spryte! Bad dog!” Iris exclaimed, giving a shrill whistle.  
“Aww, Spryte,” Duma moaned, turning to spot an empty plate.  
While most everyone was watching Spryte, Reaveth was still shuffling through her meal quietly.  
Duma walked over to her, and sat down next to her.  
“So,” Duma said. “What’s up?”  
Reaveth muttered something inaudible.  
Duma raised an eyebrow questioningly.  
Reaveth sighed. “Nothing,” she mumbled.  
“Something’s got you down. I’m not stupid.”  
Reaveth glared at her momentarily, and then said. “Something that does not concern you.”  
Her friend eyed her. “Then of whom does it concern?”  
Reaveth’s jaw appeared to have moved for a second, but no words came out. They sat together, unspeaking, while everyone else ate or held a conversation. Reaveth actually mused to tell Duma, but she decided against it quickly. Duma could not know, that was certain. She’d already been aggrieved by the news of her father, and the girl assumed her mother was dead as well, so it seemed wise enough not to inform Duma of her strange dreams. But it seemed the Elf wasn’t going to give up easily, she was eying her, so she chose to lie.  
“Fine,” she said. “it involves Spryte and a Human.”  
“Spryte and --?” Duma asked, confused.  
The dog, assuming Duma was calling her, gave a loud bark, and came bounding over.  
“No, I didn’t mean for you to come here you dumb pooch.” Duma shook her head, laughing quietly.  
Reaveth looked smug. “You said her name,” she pointed out.  
Duma feigned offence, and shot her a look. Reaveth’s smirk only lasted for a moment though, the minute her eyes met the Elf’s, she looked away, and stared down at her mud-caked boots.  
Her friend gave a quiet sigh, and she gave up.  
  
Everything finally returned to normal, with Reaveth as an exception, until about early February.  
Duma, Daedhor, Osack, Chess, and Adlór were out scavenging for something to eat, while Iris, Spryte, Lorech, Legolas, and Reaveth were busy at camp. Before everyone split up, Reaveth and Iris had made a bet that they could work faster than Lorech and Osack. Duma said they were crazy, and bet her supper that Lorech and Osack would win, although she was glad Reaveth was recuperating from—whatever was affecting her behavior. Chess quickly bet on the Hobbit and girl. Daedhor had laughed, shocked that his own sister would bet against her best friend. Legolas had sworn that he would not be pulled into the mess, but he bet his dinner as well that Reaveth and Iris could win as Duma chided him about him being a chicken. Legolas and Lorech were put on a team, and Reaveth bet three of her meals that her team could beat the other two. Daedhor was forced to remind them about their original plans: to go and find food, and work on the camp. After an extra five minutes of arrangements, Reaveth had declared that the hunting-group was not allowed to be back for at least two hours, so all three “home-teams” could work in peace. Adlór added that all three of the improvement teams should have their own set of tents of such, all even, of course, so that no one could hog the easy stuff. Everyone agreed, and so the board was set.  
Currently, Reaveth and Iris had finished one of their assigned tents, and they were nearly done with their second one.  
“I think it should have been one hour,” Iris laughed. “This is too easy!”  
“I guess,” Reaveth agreed as she hoisted the Hobbit up so she could patch up a hole.  
“How in the world do we get so many holes in the tents?!” Iris exclaimed. “I guarantee this is the twelfth rip we’ve fixed!”  
“Crows, squirrels, ravens,” Reaveth said, shifting her weight.  
“Don’t forget rocks and rain,” Iris added.  
“Oh yes,” Reaveth replied. “And the rocks and rain.”  
“I need more thread.”  
“Spryte!” Reaveth called.  
There was a flash of ginger and white as Spryte came galloping in.  
“Fetch me the thread.”  
Spryte looked utterly unresponsive.  
“Get the _rope_ ,” Reaveth said, careful not to confuse Spryte by saying “thread”.  
The dog gave a “woof” and trotted over to where the others had set down the brown yarn, and picked it up. Afterwards, she retreated back to Reaveth, holding the material carefully in her mouth.  
Iris hopped down, and took the thread, then Reaveth had to lift her up onto her shoulders again.  
As Iris sewed, Reaveth began to develop a headache.  
“Ugh,” she mumbled.  
“What’s wrong?” Iris asked as she finished.  
“My head hurts.”  
Iris leapt down once more. “Again?”  
Reaveth nodded painfully, sitting down.  
“We’re almost done, we just need to finish the third tent,” Iris comforted.  
Reaveth grunted her reply.  
  
Outside camp, in the forest, Duma’s head began to throb as well, and she looked up.  
“Not more rain,” she moaned.  
Chess glanced up, to see, yet, more thunderstorm clouds.

“More?” Daedhor laughed in anger. “More!?! What, does Eru think this is funny?! I’ve had enough rain for a few million years!” he yelled at the blackening sky, his voice echoing across the woods.  
“Don’t lose your head,” Chess warned. “And stop screaming, or we’ll find absolutely nothing to eat; unless _all_ Elves eat _just_ berries and maybe a few nuts.”  
“He’s right Daed,” Duma said. “I don’t feel like starving today, and I’m sure the guys back at camp don’t either.”  
Daedhor sighed. “I suppose so. But, wouldn’t the animals have the mind to seek shelter?”  
“Yes,” Chess answered. “Which is precisely why we’re hunting now, not during the rain.”  
“They’ll be too busy finding someplace dry,” said a feminine voice. “Or attempting to find something to eat, in my case.”  
Chess turned around, to see Osack and Adlór carrying the corpse of a deer, with an arrow stuck in its side.  
“Now, there’s a feast!” Daedhor exclaimed.  
“You’re not getting any,” Adlór said, a serious look on her face.  
“But--” Daedhor started, but then Adlór laughed, stopping him mid-sentence.  
“So gullible,” she giggled. “Of course you’re getting some. Just not as much, since you didn’t catch ‘em.”  
Duma snorted, and punched her brother’s shoulder good-naturedly. “I told you they’d find something; but of course we didn’t find anything because you scared everything off by yelling at the sky.”  
Daedhor rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you exaggerate too much.”  
Osack smirked. “We heard you on the other side of the forest,” he informed him. “I know Duma’s not exaggerating.”  
The son of Dúrven shrugged. “As long as I have a bed to sleep in tonight, I don’t care.”  
“You will when it turns out there’s no bed,” Duma laughed, running towards camp.

 

It was a few minutes after the camp-group had finished their jobs when Duma bounded into the camp.  
“So, where’s the food?” Iris and Lorech simultaneously asked.  
“Hold your horses,” Duma said. “They’ll be here in a second.” She glanced around. “Whoa… Everything looks—different!”  
Indeed it was different.  
All of the tents’ roofs were tear-free, the mold-covered sections of the tent-walls were gone, replaced by new ones, and there was strong fire going. The whole camp looked new.  
Spryte barked as Adlór, Daedhor, and Osack came through the camp entrance, with the deer.  
“Oh good,” Reaveth commented. “With all that yelling, I was afraid you’d been ambushed by Orcs or something.”  
Daedhor blushed. _She heard_ that _?_ he thought miserably, _I didn’t know I yelled_ that _loud.._  
Duma’s shoulders shook with laughter, guessing her brother’s thoughts.  
“Who finished first?” Osack asked.  
“We did,” Iris laughed.  
“Oh dear..” Duma murmured.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you have something to eat,” Reaveth laughed.  
Duma’s face lit up slightly.  
Noticing this, Reaveth swiftly amended her statement. “I said _something_ ,” she reminded the Elf.  
Duma feigned sadness, just to see if Reaveth would fall for it.  
“I’m kidding,” Reaveth giggled.  
Duma began to laugh. “And I was faking it.”  
“Oh.”

Putting down her food, for Spryte to finish off, Duma silently motioned for Legolas and Chess to follow her. They obliged; and no one saw them leave.  
Deep in the darkening woods, Duma said “If Reaveth takes first watch--”  
“Which she will,” Chess said.  
“Yes, she probably will. But anyways, since she will, one of us must stay up, just in case.”  
Chess nodded in agreement. “If we’re ambushed.. Well, I don’t want to imagine it.”  
“Eru help us,” Duma muttered. “If He does not already know… If we were attacked, if He knows, Reaveth would be the first target.”  
“That would be foul indeed,” Legolas concurred. “But let us think of happier things than that. I mean, what are the odds?”  
Duma pondered that for a moment, and she was about to reply when her kinsman hastily stopped her.  
“Don’t answer that.”  
She shrugged slightly.  
“I’ll take the “watcher’s-watch”,” Legolas proposed.  
“Fine,” Duma said with a yawn. “It’ll leave me more time for sleep.”  
“But if anything happens,” Chess said. “Let us know immediately!”  
“Yes, _father_ ,” Legolas replied sarcastically, and they made their way back.  
When they slipped back into camp, Reaveth volunteered to take first watch.  
Duma, Legolas, and Chess exchanged “no, duh” glances as everyone else in camp agreed.  
Climbing up a tall tree, and nestling herself in a Y shaped bough, Reaveth peered out into the darkness, her weather-worn cloak wrapped around her.  
Legolas sat silently in his tent, focusing on the sounds around them.  
For a while, there was the usual nightly-noises, mainly consisting of owls hooting, and the wind rustling the old, long dead leaves on the trees. That is, until around midnight, when the full moon was at its highest, and Reaveth was beginning to doze, there was a distinctive grunting noise.  
Legolas immediately leapt up and silently moved to the tent entrance. Reaveth nearly fell out of the tree as she saw Legolas’ silhouette appear, but instead tastefully dropped down from the tree, and called out. “Legolas?”  
With his cover blown, Legolas walked up to her. “Yes?” he asked innocently.  
“What were you doing? Did you make that noise?”  
Legolas shrugged. “Nothing, and no, I did not. I was actually hoping you did.”  
“I don’t make grunting noises!”  
“You did when you fell out of the tree,” Legolas pointed out.  
“I did _not_ fall out of the tree! I jumped down,” Reaveth remarked.  
Legolas shrugged again. “Whatever then, let’s go check it out.”  
Reaveth drew a calming breath, and with that they strode towards the sound, which had come from the dark forest.  
“Oof!” Legolas exclaimed.  
“What happened?!” Reaveth asked, panicking.  
“Nothing, I just tripped over a root,” Legolas replied, picking himself up. “Let’s keep our eyes peeled.”  
Reaveth smirked, but it came clean off when there was a yell, followed by a series of stumbling noises.  
They both squinted into the gloom.  
“Nad no ennas,” What do you see? Reaveth murmured to Legolas, slipping into Elvish momentarily.  
Legolas shook his head. “No. Let’s be careful; but hurry up, it could be dangerous.”  
Reaveth nodded in agreement, although her companion definitely couldn’t see her head move since the area around them was virtually blacker than tar.  
Assuming she agreed, Legolas touched her hand, to let her know he was moving without saying anything to alert the potential enemy, and they set off noiselessly again, following the moaning and crunching noises. This thing obviously was having difficulties getting around.  
“Maybe it’s just a deer,” Reaveth hissed to the Elf.  
“Doubt it,” he whispered. “Maybe an Orc?”  
Reaveth shivered at the word. It was the Orcs that murdered her father in cold-blood. They seemed to be omnipresent, always following her, and threatening to destroy all that she held dear. She drew her dagger. Sensing her emotions, Legolas drew his bow, and nocked it.

 

Back at camp, Duma gave a quiet mumble, and shifted in her sleep. The dream-world around her was dark, but it distinctively smelled like fresh rain and trees, like the trees back in Mirkwood.  
“Where am I?” Duma asked.  
Voices hissed their replies, but she couldn’t figure out what they said.  
“Speak up!” she demanded.  
“Our father was a traitor!” a voice screeched next to Duma.  
She nearly jumped out of her skin, and saw her brother.  
Extremely perplexed, she stammered “How—when—what?!”  
The dream-Daedhor smirked. “There are many things you don’t know, dear sister.”  
She was still confused. “What do you mean?”  
He gave a cold, evil laugh, and was about to reply, but then, suddenly, something shook the dream-world, and she sat straight up, eyes wild, clawing her sheets.  
Daedhor was standing over her, holding a lamp, worry brighter than the flames in his eyes.  
“Are you all right?”  
“You—they—but—” Duma panted, sweat, or perhaps tears, dripping down her face.  
“Shhh…” Daedhor murmured, brushing her cheek. “It was just a dream.”  
Duma couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, for she feared she would see him as in the dream.  
“Man cenich?” Daedhor asked.  
His sister didn’t reply, but her shuddering shoulders gave it away. She didn’t want to speak of it at all, or she feared she’d begin to bawl. Despite this, her will snapped, and she broke down in tears.  
“It’s all right,” Daedhor murmured, caressing her head.  
“No, it’s not,” Duma sobbed into his shirt.

 

The duo crept forward, and Reaveth nearly screamed in surprise as something came tumbling out of a nearby bush, and landed at their feet. Legolas stooped down to take a closer look at this—thing.  
“What is it?” Reaveth whispered, nervously glancing around for more flying creatures.  
“A human,” Legolas informed her. “He looks about twenty--”  
“Should we take him to camp?” she interrupted.  
“Fine then,” Legolas sighed. “You have to help carry him.”  
Reaveth nodded, and they lifted the semi-conscious man, then trudged on back to camp.

 

Iris got up as Spryte panted in her face. The doggy-breath was bad enough to raise the dead.  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sleepy slurring her words.

Spryte woofed, and ran outside, then back to Iris’ cot.  
“Fine, fine, I’ll go out with you…” Iris mumbled, and stumbled out of bed, and rubbed her eyes as she followed Spryte. “What’s bothering you?”  
Spryte barked, and seemed to point towards the camp’s entrance.  
Iris squinted and gasped as she saw two shapes coming towards them.  
“Who’s there?” she demanded.

“It’s just us,” Reaveth called out.  
“Reaveth? Who’s with you?”  
“Legolas,” Legolas told her.

Iris and Spryte trotted up to them. “Who’s that?” Iris queried, indicating the man.  
“No idea, but he’s hurt,” Reaveth explained.  
“I’ll wake the others,” Iris volunteered, and raced off.

Luckily for Duma, she had pulled herself together before Iris had barged in, rambling on about them needing to go outside right away, then ran off again.  
The two siblings exchanged confused glances, but followed after the Hobbit.

Everyone from camp gathered around the man’s body, gazing curiously at him.  
He had salt-and-pepper colored hair, and he looked about twenty, as Legolas had said. He wore a rather stained tunic, and had a sheath and sword to boot.  
Reaveth had tended to his wounds as he began to awaken…  



End file.
